


Warden Reborn

by theramblinggirl



Series: How Fate Finds Us [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body Swap, Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Magical BS, Multi, Original Characters Everywhere, Panic Attacks, Return to Ostagar DLC, Sort of fix-it, Time Travel, Warden's Keep DLC, Witch Hunt DLC, questionable morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 217,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6420775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theramblinggirl/pseuds/theramblinggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grey Warden Nyx Mahariel intended to give her life to save Alistair, the man she loved. When they face the Archdemon, however, Alistair is the one to deliver the final blow. Lost and distraught, Warden Nyx seeks a way to return to the past and bring him back. Upon meeting the mysterious mage who calls himself "The Changeling," she is surprised to hear he can offer her even more.</p><p>(This is what happens when your first run of DA:O goes horribly wrong, and you want to fix it however possible.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then It Was Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a disclaimer: A lot of what I've written here is based on how these individual playthroughs went. Thus Morrigan not having a girlfriend because I would have so done that otherwise. The characters were created as Wardens in the game, and in some rights bound to what that meant for the various runs that I did trying to see all the endings. Which, if you know the game, I'm sure you can guess what that means.
> 
> If you want to know more about why I'm including this note here, check out [this post](https://theramblingscribe.tumblr.com/post/163466370723/regarding-artemis) on my writing tumblr. It's also linked on chapter 36, as it's relevant to the events therein. The post itself is spoiler heavy, so decide for yourself if that matters to you.

Nyx had been told, when she awoke, of everything that had occurred. Of all that had happened on the rooftops of Fort Drakon. The darkspawn horde had nearly overwhelmed them, but she held her bow fierce and true, each new arrow sinking between dragon scales. Wynne healed every wound that struck Nyx, Alistair stayed close, ever the defender, shielding from the worst of the blows. Leliana ran circles around the darkspawn, felling them one after another, barely a flicker in the dark of the night.

The archdemon, recognizing the growing threat of the two Grey Wardens, flew over to them, crashing in with a furious roar. It was weakening, slowing. A few more well placed arrows and Nyx could end it all, for good. She would let herself disappear, take the responsibility of the Wardens, the burden of death that came with ending the Blight, upon herself. She wouldn’t let it touch Alistair. Not when he needed to be king. Not when she loved him still.

Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, something gentle to pull her away as the dragon’s head fell, a soft grumble in its throat the only proof that it still lived. Nyx turned to stare at her love, certain that he only meant to say goodbye. She knew he couldn’t love her anymore. She was nothing but a Dalish elf, risen to become a leader through circumstance alone. To think that she’d grown so attached, not only to one shem, but to many, proved she was no longer the Nyx that left her Keeper and clan behind.

She parted her lips, to tell him goodbye for himself, but Alistair stopped her.

“I know you told Riordan that you would do this, but I can’t let you,” Alistair said. His brow was set so firm, but the eyes beneath still showed the softness of a child. How he’d known so many cruelties yet remained so kind was nothing short of miraculous. He was her miracle.

“It’s my decision, Alistair. I have to do this,” Nyx said. She could barely look him in the eye, but stood firm.

“I know, you’ve always been so willful and brave, but I can’t lose you. Not to this,” Alistair said. “I love you too much to watch you throw your life away.”

Nyx couldn’t hide her surprise. That day, which seemed a lifetime ago now, he’d broken her heart. Alistair was going to be king and no heir could be born of an elf, especially one of the “savage” Dalish. None of the nobility would accept it, no matter how much they respected her as a Warden. Nyx thought that his willingness to give her up meant he felt for her no longer.

“You…” Nyx tried to speak, but her heart swelled before it sank again. Of course. He still loved her, despite everything, but he was a dutiful man. She should have seen that before. “And I love you,” she said, trying to steel herself. “So will all of Ferelden, when you are king. You can’t die, you’re too important. In comparison I’m-”

“Don’t,” Alistair warned. “You are more important than I could ever be. I don’t care about the throne, but I do care that you stay alive. I won’t let you do this.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t want you to die either?!” Nyx said. She was frantic. The darkspawn were still flooding in, even as their leader’s breath fell shallow. They couldn’t argue forever. One of them had to sink the blade into the monster’s head.

Alistair smiled, still charming even now. “I know,” he said. “That’s why you have to live. You’re better than I could ever be. You see the good in everyone, you’d do anything to see that everyone gets to live happily. They need you, Nyx.” Alistair raised a hand to his fellow Warden’s face, thumb brushing away a rebellious tear that had managed to escape her eye.

Nyx stood frozen as Alistair took up his blade and rushed at the dragon. Her fingers felt numb, her grip on her bow loosening. It fell to the ground, and she snapped back into focus. _No,_ she thought, _no, I just need to get to it before him_.

A shaking hand took up one last arrow. She’d sink it into the archdemon’s eye, before Alistair could reach it. She wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself.

Nyx lifted her bow to see Alistair raise his sword. She drew back her arrow. He brought the sharp steel of his blade sinking down into the skull of the archdemon. Her arrow sailed, flying far to the right, striking the heart of a lingering Genlock. Nyx, who prided herself in perfect aim, missed her target.

The rest was hazy, but Leliana had filled in most of the places where Nyx’s own memory failed. Light streamed from the final wound in the archdemon’s skull. The light had looked as if it was filling Alistair, but he weakened as it surged through his body. He grimaced and pushed the sword deeper into the monster’s head. Then all that gathering light exploded around them, blowing everyone on the roof backwards.

“You hit your head,” Leliana said. “We were afraid that you were dead, but thankfully you were just unconscious. Wynne was one of the few people still able to move much, so she went to heal you when I called to her. It wasn’t long before reinforcements arrived, but most of the darkspawn started to flee as soon as the dragon was slain. They brought you here, to the palace, to rest.”

“And Alistair?” Nyx asked. It was pointless to hope, she knew, but the longer she waited to bring him up, the longer she would be able to hold on to that empty wish. Leliana’s face said it all. The way her lips tightened, gaze falling, Nyx knew.

“They brought his body here, too. To hold a funeral before putting him to the pyre. He will be sent off as a king,” Leliana explained. As if an honor in death made the dying any better.

Nyx brought her legs up to her chest, hugging them. She was still in the bed she’d woken up in. Wynne would be back soon with food and to check any lingering wounds. Nyx felt foolish for the thought, but wondered if the old woman could heal the pain inside her chest.

She was dressed as soon as she’d finished eating. Nyx was to look her best in the finest armor, her wild hair tamed as much as possible, then put on display with her new title as Hero of Ferelden. An empty title that she didn’t deserve. She stood in front of the gathered crowd as Anora was made Queen. Nyx tried to look brave. She wasn’t sure what heroes looked like, really, but she wanted to fool everyone she could into believing that she was one.

They cheered and Anora granted Nyx’s people land of their own, so they might never be made to fear by cruel shemlen ever again. That much, Nyx wanted to give. Then Anora asked what their hero would do next, and she just wasn’t sure what to say. The Blight was over. She had no goal any longer. Nyx would always be a Grey Warden. The memory of their call in the Deep Roads served as a reminder that there was no escaping that. Yet, the Wardens held no home for Nyx anymore.

“I’ll travel, for a time,” Nyx found herself saying. It seemed right. She’d find some goal, something to latch onto. Her mind was still muddled in the shock.

Nyx said her final goodbyes to the people she’d travelled with. None of them seemed appropriately broken up about the loss of Alistair. They already had plans, places to go. Their lives moved forward. Hers felt stuck.

“I heard you say you planned on travelling, is that correct?” Zevran asked her. “Perhaps you could use some companionship. Plus, you’ve already done a great job keeping the Crows from killing me horribly, I could use that kind of protection.”

“You’re welcome to come, if you wish,” Nyx said. “I’m not really sure where to go, though.”

Their lives moved forward, but there was nothing in the future for Nyx anymore. Nothing left that she wanted. There was only the past, which lay behind her in thousands of broken shards. It was a mirror that had started this all, wasn’t it? If she’d never gone there with Tamlen, if she’d only dragged him back to the keeper maybe she would be with her clan still. Nyx knew what she wanted, but it wasn’t ahead of her.

“Well, I will follow your lead regardless. Just so long as we don’t stay in one place for too long. Makes it easier to be found and that is the one thing I don’t want to be,” Zevran said.

_Neither did Morrigan,_ Nyx thought. She’d thought over and over again of that night, how she’d kept Morrigan from Alistair and prevented the ritual from taking place. At the time, Nyx convinced herself it was selfless, protecting the world from dark magic Nyx couldn’t possibly understand, offering her life to the world as sacrifice instead. Now she knew the true selfishness behind her good intentions.

Maybe Morrigan would know a way to fix this. The witch was no stranger to dark magic. If there were a way to make everything better, make it all okay again, Morrigan would be the one to know how. Nyx exhaled, realizing that she had one mission left after all.

Despite her love for Alistair, and because of it, Nyx did not stay for the funeral. She asked Leliana to take her place, to make sure everyone knew just how wonderful of a man Alistair had been. Her friend promised her this much, though not without begging her to attend. With one look into Nyx’s eyes, Leliana could tell that Nyx needed to leave. She argued no further, but asked that Nyx stay and listen to the song Leliana had written in Alistair’s honor. It was the most beautiful thing Nyx had ever heard, and the most heartbreaking. The tune stayed in her head for days after she left Denerim.

♢♢♢♢♢

In 9:32 Dragon, Nyx was alone again, with only her mabari hound at her side. She felt like she’d been endlessly chasing ghosts, hunting rumor after rumor of a witch with dark hair and bright eyes. Morrigan was not only elusive, but she was also busy. No doubt her plans had required a great change when she was denied her ritual.

Now Nyx found herself back in the Kocari Wilds, at the door of Flemeth’s hut. There was no sense of life in the wooden house anymore. Both Morrigan and her mysterious mother were long gone. A lingering sense of immense power remained in the air, but that was the only hint that either of the women had ever been there. Perseus, the mabari that Nyx had met back in Ostagar, howled softly.

“Shh, boy, I know,” Nyx said gently. “We’ll find Morrigan. I know we’re close now.” She gave the loyal dog a gentle pat on his head, then opened the door. It was unlocked, nothing left inside that required protecting. Nyx looked around the room of the small hut. It looked exactly the same as the last time she’d been here, when she retrieved Flemeth’s grimoire for Morrigan. She didn’t remember the moment fondly, as even in her hands she felt the weight and power behind the old tome. There was much of this place that frightened Nyx, but she couldn’t lose face.

A girl popped out from around the back corner of the house, wielding a blade. The two women froze, but Perseus was at the ready, growling a warning at the stranger to protect Nyx. Yet, it only took one look at the mysterious girl to know that she was a Dalish warrior.

“Wow, of all the people I would have thought to find here, I would not have believed it to be one of my kin. Andaran atishan, lethallan,” the elf woman said, putting back her sword. Nyx ran a hand over Perseus’ fur to calm him.

“Andaran atishan,” Nyx repeated the greeting. It felt almost foreign now, having spent so much time away from her clan in the world of humans. It was almost like she had lost the right to use her people’s language at all.

“Might I ask what you’re doing out here? You’re not from my clan, but perhaps the Witch of the Wilds has stolen from you, as well?” the elven woman said.

“No, I’ve other business with Morrigan,” Nyx said.

“Business?” the stranger pressed.

“She is…was, a friend. I need her help with something,” Nyx said.

“A friend? It is strange to hear someone describe the witch as such, though I suppose even someone like her must have friends. My name is Ariane. I need to find Morrigan because she stole something from our people. You know how precious our history is to us, don’t you? Well Morrigan took some of our oldest books. I need to see them returned, we Dalish have already lost so much to dirty shemlen, I couldn’t bear to see another piece of us lost,” Ariane said.

Nyx was reminded of lectures from her own Keeper about such things. Old secrets and magic and all that the Dalish had lost remained only in descriptions on paper. So much of their history was gone, but the wild elves held tight to every piece they could find. What Morrigan wanted with these secrets, Nyx did not know. Her memory of the woman was not of a common thief or someone who would take important things just for money. The books themselves probably held no worth to any but the Dalish. They had a wealth in information, but what could a shem – mage or not – do with information alone?

“Do you have any leads?” Nyx asked. It was obvious Morrigan wasn’t here and she probably hadn’t been for a very long time. Now Nyx’s sources were tapped, but perhaps Ariane still had an idea.

“Not really. All I knew is that she was said to have lived here, in the wilds. My best guess is that, if we try to figure out what she’s looking for, we could follow in her search and find where she’s hiding,” Ariane said, pacing as she thought. “I remember overhearing her and my Keeper speaking of eluvians. Some sort of old magic artifact of our people.”

“I’ve never heard of those,” Nyx admitted. She’d not taken as much of an interest as Tamlen and her other friends once had in Dalish history. When they’d discovered those ruins ages ago, Nyx just wanted to run back to the Keeper and stay far away from the giant spiders and hordes of undead that plagued the place. If only Tamlen hadn’t been so stubborn.

“I don’t really know much myself, but…” Ariane stopped pacing, looking up at Nyx. “I hear the Ferelden Circle has some ancient books like our own, on old elven magic. If we go there we could…no, they’d never let in two Dalish. Even if we’re looking for something that should belong to us and not a group of shemlen.”

“Actually,” Nyx said, “I should be able to enter without issue. I know both the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander personally. It’s a long story but I know they’ll allow me access.”

Ariane perked up immediately. “Well what are we waiting for then? Let’s go!”

It had been ages since Nyx had set foot in the Circle Tower. Unfortunately, Wynne was off Maker-knows-where with Shale, trying to find some reversal to the golem making process. Even Irving and Greagoir were unavailable. Nyx was still welcomed in without trouble, recognized by Knight-Captain Hadley as the Hero of Ferelden. Ariane was aghast, as in their many days of travelling together Nyx had kept her true identity concealed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ariane asked as they walked towards the Circle’s library.

“You didn’t ask?” Nyx said, trying for a smile. Her companion didn’t look pleased. Nyx sighed, saying, “Alright, honestly I didn’t want you to know. I’m tired of the way people change when they know who I am. They don’t know that I wasn’t really responsible for ending the Blight.”

“Then, who was?” Ariane asked, her voice just above a whisper. This felt like a secret to her.

“Another Grey Warden,” Nyx said. She hadn’t spoken his name since she’d left with Zevran a year ago. She didn’t dare. “He defeated the archdemon.”

“But I was told you were the only Grey Warden to survive the siege on Denerim,” Ariane said. There was a lull of silence before a quiet, “Oh…” left Ariane’s lips. She understood. “I’m sorry, lethallan. By the look in your eyes, this other Warden must have meant a lot to you.”

Nyx didn’t answer. She hadn’t wanted to talk about this at all. It was a welcome distraction when she reunited with the odd dwarf, Sandal, and asked him to show off his enchanting skills for Ariane. Nyx knew this would be impressive for the Dalish woman, as most magic was done only by Keepers and their First in a Dalish clan. Enchantment was a rare sight, especially by a dwarven savant. The Dalish had no Tranquil.

They went along their way, finding the book they required as well as another on ancient elvish to assist with translating the old text. They poured over it for a while before a whining voice scolded them.

“Maker, be careful with that thing! Look at the spine, oh and the pages you’re _bending the pages_. Please be careful with that you have no clue how old it is!” the whiny mage cried. The two Dalish women stared at him, their brows raised in non-verbal sarcasm.

“Oh, or maybe you do,” the mage corrected himself. “Still, you should be careful with that.”

“I can’t make much sense of it, to be honest,” Nyx admitted. “Have you read this before?”

“Not…a lot, but I remember pieces. Anything particular you want to know?” the mage asked.

“Eluvians,” Ariane spat out before Nyx could even begin to say something. “We’re looking for information on eluvians. Do you know what they are?”

“Oh yeah, those. Yeah, eluvian. The literal translation is ‘mirror,’ but they’re supposed to hold great power. It’s unclear what they did exactly but they seemed to be a means of communication. No one knows if there are any left, though,” the mage said.

“A mirror? My clan heard of another group of Dalish who lost two young warriors to a mirror tainted by darkspawn. One disappeared and the other got sick, but I believe they found a cure,” Ariane said.

Nyx’s already pale face lost any lingering color. “There is only one cure for darkspawn taint, and that is to become a Warden,” she said, feeling breathless. “Tamlen is dead. He became a ghoul and I killed him.”

“I…it was you?” Ariane said. “You are just full of surprises, lethallan. I’m sorry for what happened. The clan spoke much of their love for you and Tamlen.”

“But the eluvian? What happened to it?” the mage asked.

“They destroyed it. Tainted it was too much of a danger to leave intact,” Ariane said.

Nyx remembered Duncan saving her. Remembered him destroying the mirror after they were unable to find Tamlen. That was the same day she’d left her clan behind forever. The same day that she swore she would never lose another like that, not if she could help it. Nyx wanted to scream.

“But that’s a precious, priceless artifact! Long before our time! It was probably the last of its kind…oh _no,_ ” the mage half-sobbed, hanging his head in defeat. Funny how he glossed over the rest of the story.

“That can’t be,” Ariane said. “We need to find one. A working one. Morrigan would be able to, I’m certain of it.”

“Any ideas, mage?” Nyx asked.

“It’s Finn. My name. And well, there is someone I could ask,” the mage, Finn, said, staring off into the distance. He snapped back into attention in an instant. “Come with me, I’ll show you.”

They found themselves leaving for the basement, to solve yet another issue with tears in the Veil. Nyx, having never had the talent of magic, could not understand why mages couldn’t just keep the Veil shut tight. It was under their command and control, but every time mages were involved in something, it seemed there was an issue with demons or the Veil being torn.

Once they had the situation under control, Finn lead them back to a room with a statue. Then, he started to talk to it. Nyx stared for a long moment until she heard a voice in her head, responding to Finn and introducing itself as the statue. Would magical wonders never cease?

“We’re trying to find an eluvian, a working one. Do you know where one could be found?” Finn asked the statue, apparently an artifact from Tevinter.

“Scry, and you shall find what you seek,” the statue said.

“Scry…with a piece of the broken mirror! Oh that is brilliant!” Finn said. “I read about scrying a bit, it requires...what else will we need?”

“Seek the light left by elven hands, in lands where dwarves once dwelled. There is a sanctuary in the deep halls of Cad’halash, now known by the name Cadash. There the Lights of Arlathan can be found,” the statue said. Both Ariane and Nyx perked up at this name.

“ _The_ Lights of Arlathan? They can be found?” Ariane asked. “Nyx, our people could regain some piece of our history! But what would they be doing in dwarven ruins?”

“When I first discovered the eluvian, it was underground in ruins that appeared to belong to humans,” Nyx said. “There is so much of elven history we don’t know, it’s possible that our artifacts remain in many odd places. Places you wouldn’t think to look.”

“It would explain why we have a hard time finding anything, other than them being simply destroyed by the Imperium,” Ariane said bitterly.

“Cadash must mean Cadash Thaig,” Finn said in an attempt to refocus the two women. “Perhaps I can find some maps while we’re here, to lead us to it.”

Nyx nodded and had Ariane help the both of them search. Once they found what was needed, they returned just once more to the statue, to thank it for its help. Finn insisted it wasn’t necessary, but Nyx knew better than to be impolite to something ancient and magical. She had, after all, dealt with Flemeth.

“Goodbye, Finn,” the statue said. “We will not speak again.”

Finn blanched. “Wh-what is that supposed to mean? Statue? Hey, statue!” he called, waving his hands in front of the stone. True to its word, the statue said no more. “Maker, you don’t think I’m going to die, do you?”

“It could mean any number of things,” Nyx said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions like that so quickly.”

“Though it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little extra careful from now on,” Ariane teased. Perseus barked, his way of telling her not to be so mean. “I’m only joking,” Araine said.

The group made their way back upstairs. As the Dalish women and the mabari approached the door, Finn paused. They would not have noticed that he stopped, save for the pathetic croaking noise that escaped his throat. They turned back to face him.

“What’s the matter?” Nyx asked.

“So, you’re leaving then?” Finn said.

“Yes. To find Morrigan. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?” Ariane said, crossing her arms. She seemed unable to dial down the intensity of her voice.

“Well, won’t you need some help? To scry?” Finn said sheepishly, gazing at his shoes.

“I...Finn, would you like to come along?” Nyx said. She’d always intended to have him join them. Though mages could often be trouble, in her experience, they were also of great aid. Finn in particular had specialized in creation magic, much like Wynne, which made him useful protection against the dangers they were sure to face.

“Could I?” Finn said with glee. His eyes lit up, and he hurried without a word over to Knight-Captain Hadley. Nyx heard the older man sigh loudly, but Finn ran back to them with the same enthusiasm. He’d gotten permission to assist them on their quest.

Since the Circle Tower was far closer to Orzammar than the Brecilian Forest, the group agreed that going to Cadash Thaig first was the best choice. Ariane walked with nervous excitement behind each step. She and Finn chatted most of the way, sharing what they knew of the Dalish. They would sometimes bicker, but Nyx watched as the two grew fond of each others company. If she mentioned this to Ariane, her fellow Dalish would be quick to deny it, but she knew the look. It wasn’t like Nyx would judge Ariane for falling for a shemlen.

Perseus whined and kept close to Nyx on their journey. The closer she got to Orzammar, the more she dreaded a return into the Deep Roads. The more she denied the Grey Warden blood within her, the more nightmares had plagued her. It had been worst when she travelled with Zevran, who would have to calm her every time she awoke screaming. There was no longer an archdemon to taunt Nyx, dare her to challenge it, but still she heard their voices. Nyx would never stop hearing the growling and crunching and tearing of flesh.

When they stopped and made camp, she was certain to sleep with Perseus’ weight on her. It kept her grounded, reminded her somewhat of the nights she spent in Alistair’s arms. She had slept so many years alone, it was hard to believe that now she had trouble falling asleep without the warmth of another body by her side. Nyx had not allowed herself to think of him this much in so long, but the ache in the pit of her stomach opened like a fresh wound. She covered her mouth to muffle a sob. This was all for him, this struggle to find Morrigan. Nyx had to undo her mistakes, one way or another. She wasn’t sure she could live with herself otherwise.

Nyx longed for the nights with Zevran. At first they had taken separate tents, respecting the boundaries Nyx needed. He would still flirt during the day, in his playful way, but never propositioned her for anything more. She’d told him once that she loved Alistair, and that was supposed to have been the end of it. There was no man between her and Zevran after the Blight.

It had started with gentle comforting, sharing a tent and sleeping side by side. Zevran would not touch Nyx unless she asked, but he admitted many times to the temptation. One night, Nyx simply could not sleep, and moved to lie face to face with her companion. She kissed Zevran with a need she had been unable to voice for so long. He returned the sentiment, and then some.

After that first night, it became almost routine. The two would play as if nothing had changed during their days together, but when the sun fell beneath the horizon they found themselves entangled. Sex with Zevran was nothing like it had ever been with Alistair. Nyx hadn’t minded the inexperience, as she had been unfamiliar with what two people were meant to do in bed together as well. But Zevran showed her things Alistair never could, kissing her in places Alistair would not have thought to place his lips.

Nyx was glad to enjoy the physical pleasures, even though there was no romantic attachment for either of them. It kept her from thinking of her loss, kept her from dwelling on pain, and helped her sleep even when nightmares of darkspawn threatened. If she awoke from a bad dream, Zevran would still be there, and she could kiss him and fall back into his arms until she was asleep again.

It had seemed like the perfect arrangement, but Zevran knew Nyx never stopped thinking of Alistair. He insisted it didn’t bother him, and it hadn’t, at first. Yet, as the time passed, Zevran wondered just how often another man was on her mind while Nyx slept with him. He had not fallen in love with Nyx, no. However, Zevran wanted those he took to bed to think only of him. He told Nyx this shortly before he left her. They could not travel as mere friends after they’d become so familiar with one another, and they couldn’t travel as lovers while Nyx still suffered her heartache. Nyx agreed with him on both counts.

Which made travelling with company again feel very strange. She had no desire to sleep with either Finn or Ariane, but she had forgotten what having company was like. Nyx would not have said so before they joined her, but travelling with no one beside her but Perseus had been rather lonely. The mabari snorted in his sleep, which she took as his agreement. Both of them liked having companions.

The next day, the group drew up on Orzammar. The gates were still impressively massive, even to Nyx who had spent a good amount of time there. She almost looked for Oghren, out of instinct. Nyx knew that he was a surfacer now, with no intent or desire to return to the life underground. With luck, he was with Felsi. Nyx wished every happiness for her friends, as she thought how well she knew what the loss of it was like.

“By the Ancestors, if it isn’t the Hero of Ferelden!” the dwarf guarding the gates said, opening his arms wide. “What brings you to Orzammar? Couldn’t resist the call of the Deep Roads? Wanted to check in with our King, bless his reign? Or just missed the fine taste of roast nug?”

“I’ve business in the Deep Roads again, I’m afraid,” Nyx said. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she had hated the taste of nug. Oghren had been deeply offended when she said so before, so she figured it was an unpopular opinion amongst Orzammar dwarves.

“Well, good luck in there. I will never understand why you Wardens keep going back,” the guard said.

“Where the darkspawn go, we go to kill them,” Nyx said simply. Of course everyone knew this basic information, but the bit they didn’t know was how the taint in all Grey Wardens made it so the darkspawn called to them. Nyx had heard from Riordan that one day, the voices became too strong to fight, and each Warden would go to the Deep Roads to fight until they were dead. It was a horrifying thought that Nyx never cared to entertain for long.

“Heh, alright,” the dwarf chuckled. “Just try not to get dead. Ferelden would miss their hero.”

Nyx once again restrained herself from correcting him. She was no hero. Not until she found a way to save Alistair would she accept that title willingly.

Finn’s maps lead them to the Thaig without trouble. Well, no trouble other than the darkspawn. Thankfully, given that the Blight had not been over for long, they were not quite as numerous, needing to replenish their numbers. Nyx did not mention that she had seen up close the disgusting creatures called Broodmothers, women taken and molded into a form of darkspawn meant to breed more of them. It sickened her to remember the story of how they were created. All darkspawn smelled foul, but within the Broodmother’s cavern the stench had been something far worse than the usual smell of taint.

This journey was not so deep, though the part they had to reach was unfamiliar to Nyx. She was simply glad when Finn declared that they’d arrived. He was working to prepare the spell to find the Lights of Arlathan. Ariane was reluctant when he told them he required blood of a descendant of Arlathan. Nyx’s blood, unfortunately, would not do. She was Dalish, yes, but her clan had no connection to the Arlathan elves. Ariane, on the other hand, was a perfect candidate.

“This isn’t blood magic, is it?” Nyx asked as Ariane offered her palm cautiously.

“It’s magic that _involves_ blood, but it’s not like I’m dealing with demons or anything,” Finn said defensively. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I’m still not completely certain about that,” Ariane said, wincing as he brought a small blade close to her skin. He sliced quick, hoping to avoid more pain than necessary, but she still shrieked loudly as he cut her skin. “Ow!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I have all I need now. Please, let me mend that…” Finn said. He cupped his hands over hers, and Nyx watched the blush spread on Ariane’s face. Finn’s hands glowed with the green energy of healing magic. When he removed them, there wasn’t even the faintest hint of a cut.

“Thank you,” Ariane mumbled, looking away. “We’d best get going.”

Glowing orbs lead the group through the Thaig. They dispatched of any darkspawn in their path, then continued forward a few more paces before something else could appear and threaten their little group. The Lights of Arlathan were quite literally lights. In fact, they were lanterns. Ariane was impressed, saying she would need to take notes and sketches of the things back to her clan once all of this was over. Nyx agreed that it would be good to share the knowledge.

As they gathered each lantern, a guardian spirit would appear, meant to deter thieves. There was no reasoning with the elven spirits, as they were nothing but that. Ariane lamented over the knowledge the spirits probably possessed. If they weren’t so busy fighting them, there was even more they could learn from them. But the group had to keep moving, and defeated each spirit in turn.

“And that’s the last of them!” Finn cheered. “That went quicker than I expected. Though I suppose I should have known that would be easy with _you_ around.”

He was gesturing to Nyx. He’d barely even watched her fight, and she knew it. Finn’s eyes were glued to Ariane the whole time, making sure to protect her as she got up close to the enemy. Nyx had stayed back from most of the fighting, clutching her bow and determined to keep her aim true. She would never miss another shot again.

Nyx nodded at the well-meaning compliment anyway, before insisting that they press on. There was no need to get comfortable in the Deep Roads. They’d already stayed long enough.

They left Orzammar and set up camp just on the outskirts of the surfacers’ trading community. Perseus could sense the anxiety that set in on his owner’s mind. Nyx spoke to the hound in hushed tones, patting his head gently as she did so. She didn’t want to wake the others, but she needed to talk to someone.

“Next we go back to where this whole mess began,” Nyx said, staring at the ceiling of the tent. “Where I lost Tamlen, where I became sick, where Duncan found me… If I had pulled him out, dragged him away before he could touch that stupid mirror…”

Nyx was crying. She’d held this all back too long. Alistair wasn’t the only hole left in her heart. But somehow she knew she couldn’t save them both. Nor could she save Duncan, as she knew the man would charge into battle beside his king regardless of warnings. At least Alistair, she could keep. Alistair she could, perhaps, truly save. But only if all this worked and Morrigan lead her to the right place.

The road to the Brecilian Forest was incredibly tiring. Nyx had insisted on taking side paths, knowing that the more main roads they stuck to, the more likely people were to recognize her. It ran more risk of small bandit groups jumping them as they travelled, but Nyx trusted in the strength of her allies enough to take that chance. Ariane was unbothered by the divergent paths. Being Dalish as Nyx was, she was used to these quieter, hidden roads that the aravels often took to avoid most shemlen. Finn would have been bothered either way, not at all the outdoorsy type, but he particularly claimed about the mud and thick roots of the trees on the back roads.

Nyx remembered the way to the cave as if Tamlen had lead her there only moments ago. Like she’d only just encountered those three trembling shems, who she spared out of kindness. Nyx wished she could take a few different turns, find Keeper Marethari and Ashalle, hugging both of them tightly.

She’d seen Ashalle at the celebration after the end of the Blight, but not since. Another clan had informed her, while she still travelled with Zevran, that her people had gone all the way to the Free Marches. Nyx tried to picture her friends packing themselves into a boat, but couldn’t imagine it no matter how hard she tried. Knowing the First, Merrill, she likely puked.

At the mouth of the cave into the ruins, Nyx froze. Ariane stood nearby, watching closely.

“Do you need a moment? I know this must be hard for you, after everything,” Ariane said.

Nyx shook her head. She would be strong. She was the Hero of Ferelden. Nothing should be able to stand in her way, not anymore. For once, she needed to believe in all the stories people spread about her.

“I’ll be alright. We have to do this,” Nyx said. She felt the ghosts follow her through the ruins, clinging to her back as they always did. One day, she’d manage to ignore the feeling and simply live.

There were loads of undead within the ruins, but worse yet, there were sick Dalish, likely taken by the lingering power of the mirror. Nyx could barely look as she shot them down, silently praying to the Creators to have mercy on them. “Mythal take your spirit, lethallan,” Nyx whispered.

She urged the others forward, though the squeamish Finn kept staring at the fallen bodies, wondering if they might simply get back up again. Ariane tugged on the mage’s robes to make sure he stayed with them as they reached the final chamber, a round room in which the eluvian once stood. Shattered pieces remained scattered on the floor, though it appeared as if someone had already gathered some of them. Nyx suspected Morrigan had been here as well.

“I’ll have to take a moment to scry properly. I’ve only tried it once before, and it’s not really an exact...it might take me a few tries,” Finn said, preparing the materials on the floor of the ruins. The two Dalish women stood guard while he worked. Perseus circled the area, curious about the scents that lingered in the air. It seemed like an hour before Finn had finished, and he knew the location of the witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don’t know the origins (lol) of this story idea, you can check out [my gaming tag on tumblr.](http://theramblinggirl.tumblr.com/tagged/theadventuringgirl/chrono) Go past the Skyrim stuff, then you’ll see my first foray into Dragon Age as Nyx Mahariel. Which ended...badly. It also has some early thoughts on what to do for Nyx 2.0/Nyx Reborn, so you can see where things are going and where they have changed, but it might spoil some stuff later on. It also includes LOADS of screenshots, so if you’re interested in having visuals for my Wardens besides just what I describe here, go take a looksee.
> 
> I've got a bunch of chapters written in advance and plan to (hope to) update every Thursday night. So expect more next week!


	2. The Changeling

Nyx entered the old building. The structure appeared to date back to the Tevinter Imperium, and still stood though the area had been claimed by dragons. Ariane was still wiping off the blood from the dragonlings they’d slain on their way in. Finn was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that they’d also faced a Valterral, a creature of elven myth and legend that he was certain was not actually supposed to be real. For a mage who wielded the powers of nature in his own two hands, he had a hard time believing in the fantastic.

Nyx held up a hand as they crossed a small bridge inside, stopping her companions behind her. Morrigan stood just ahead, clearly waiting for something or someone. Nyx approached slowly, uncertain how this would go. Morrigan could be angry and choose to fight. Or Morrigan might fear the same of Nyx, and flee if she got too close.

“I thought it might be you, but I had to wait and be certain. Come no closer, or I will leave now and your questions will remain unanswered,” Morrigan said. It had been so long since Nyx had heard that voice, she nearly cried. She’d trusted this woman so much, until that one night where it seemed her trust ran to an end.

“How did you know it was me?” Nyx asked.

“You don’t expect to ask so many about my whereabouts and escape all notice, surely?” Morrigan said. “I wasn’t certain, but it seemed like something you might do. And here you are, so I was correct. To have followed me so far, there must be more important things you want answers to than that.”

“What are you planning? You take ancient elven knowledge, but for what purpose?” Nyx asked.

“You know better, Nyx,” Morrigan said. “I never trusted you with my true plans, and the one time I did you denied me the ritual that could have saved Alistair’s life.”

“Do not speak his name!” Nyx shouted. She felt her hands curled into tight fists. Nyx had spent so long heartbroken, sad, and lonely, she’d almost forgotten the pieces of her that were angry.

“I will do this, but only because I see how it pains you. I mean no torment, I am simply stating that which we both know to be true. You could not let go of petty selfishness, you could not trust me after all we had been through together, and Al- your Warden died for it,” Morrigan said.

“I know,” Nyx said, casting her eyes on the ground. “I want to fix it. That’s why I’ve come looking for you. I don’t care what you have planned. I just need your help.”

“After you refused to help me? I don’t see why I should, but you have made me curious, so I suppose I can at least hear you out,” Morrigan said.

“I heard stories, old ones, just whispers of a name. The Changeling. Said to know how to alter time itself, rewrite histories. I want to find him,” Nyx said. This, she had told no one. Not since Zevran. It was the other reason he had left her. The real reason, if Nyx was honest. He insisted she was obsessed with dark magic, forces she ought not meddle in. Zevran would have no part in Nyx’s self-destruction. He cared too much to see his friend lose herself.

“To have even heard that name… You must truly be serious about doing this,” Morrigan said. “He will not be easy to find, but I’ve left some things, just there. They will hold the information you need. As well as your Dalish book. I see no reason to stop you, though I warn you that his magic is darker than my ritual ever would have been.”

“I understand that. I intend to go back. To allow you to perform the ritual. It was a mistake to deny you,” Nyx admitted.

Morrigan scoffed. “If you’d seen it then, perhaps you would not be standing here. Though changing that moment alone will not win him back, you must be aware of that.”

“I am,” Nyx said. “But as long as I am Dalish, he would never have me.”

“No, you are correct. At best you could be a concubine, and you don’t really seem the sort for that life,” Morrigan said. “But the Changeling knows many secret magics, many ways of changing the tides of time. Perhaps you do not need to be Dalish.”

“I don’t understand,” Nyx said, brow furrowed.

“But you will. If that is all you came for, then I must go. I’ve already stayed too long, and there is much for me to do. If you succeed in changing this reality, making it to your liking, I may be a different Morrigan than the one you first met. But know this, I am not, nor have I ever been your enemy. I hoped at one time we might even be friends, but that...that does not matter now. If you fear anyone, fear Flemeth. She has fooled us all, even me. No matter what life you remain in, she will remain the same. She will remain a danger,” Morrigan warned.

“I understand,” Nyx said.

“No, you truly don’t. Be careful, Nyx. ‘Twould be a shame to see Ferelden lose its hero,” Morrigan said.

“It already has.”

“Yet you seem to be the only one who believes this,” Morrigan said. She stepped back, facing towards the eluvian again. She ran a hand over it tentatively, throwing her head back for one final warning. “Change is coming to the world, regardless of your choices. If your intent is to reclaim your Alistair, then I suggest you do so swiftly, and hold onto him tight. Soon, no one will be safe.”

Nyx ignored the use of his name, as this time it was said in kindness, rather than spite. Nyx nodded, though Morrigan’s vague warnings didn’t give her much of a clue as for what to look out for. She watched as Morrigan stepped through the eluvian, realizing only now that it worked as a portal. Its surface glowed for a moment more after Morrigan left, then faded back to looking no more special than an ordinary mirror.

Ariane and Finn ran up to Nyx right after, full of questions. They had overheard a lot, by the sound of things.

“Who is this ‘Changeling’ person? How do you know you can trust him?” Ariane asked.

“Why didn’t you tell us about this?” Finn said. His voice cracked in offense.

“Because you would have tried to stop me!” Nyx insisted, taking the materials Morrigan had left behind. “You would have tried to warn me against it, tell me to stop and think about what I was doing. But I already know. I’ve made up my mind and I am going to find this mage.”

“I’ve heard stories,” Finn said, looking even more nervous than he usually did, “of a mage by that name. He nearly tore the Circle apart in his experiments, trying to change time itself! The magic he wielded was dangerous and unusual. At least with blood magic you know what’s involved. With this...this is why the Chantry thinks of mages as cursed. The old Magisters were too proud, thought themselves more powerful than the Maker himself. The Changeling is likely the same.”

“It doesn’t matter what either of you think,” Nyx said. “I appreciate all that you have done to help me, and I’m glad we found your book, Ariane. But this is where we part ways. I’ve made up my mind and nothing can change that now.”

“I never would have dreamed that one of the Dalish, one of my own who could become a hero would be so...so arrogant! Think of the consequences this could have if it goes wrong. Just think for a moment!” Ariane insisted. A stream of angry tears were running down her cheeks. Nyx had never meant for anyone to be hurt, but she couldn’t let them stop her.

“I have. Anything that I have to face, it will be on me to deal with it,” Nyx said. She was ready to leave them behind. Perseus whined at her side. Not even her mabari approved of this plan, but she would not turn back.

“Fen'Harel ma ghilana,” Ariane spat. Finn looked puzzled, but Nyx knew the meaning. Perhaps Ariane was right, and the Dread Wolf was among the ghosts that clawed at her back and lead Nyx forward. Not even that would stop her, were it true.

“Ir abelas, Ariane,” Nyx said. “But I’ve made my choice.”

Nyx watched Ariane carefully, preparing herself to draw her bow in case the Dalish woman turned her sword on Nyx. But Ariane put up no fight, instead appearing to slump her shoulders in defeat. After so long with Nyx, Ariane could not bring herself to fight the Hero of Ferelden. Even if her actions could doom them all.

“I hope you find whatever it is you seek, lethallan,” Ariane said. The harshness of her voice before was replaced with a gentle sound of sorrow. “I know I cannot stop you.”

Nyx left them behind without another word, her mabari the only one to follow. Since Zevran had left, she knew she had to walk this path alone. Those couple of weeks spent with company, Nyx nearly fooled herself into thinking she could keep people close again. As she suspected from the start, however, there would be no one to understand the justification of her actions. Sometimes, even she had doubts, but as she thought of Alistair’s face, the soft smile he gave her on the top of Fort Drakon, she left all doubt behind.

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx was wrapped in furs as she approached the old cavern. Even for Ferelden, this particular area was freezing cold. She tried her hardest to keep her hands warm on the off-chance that she might need to draw her bow. It was hard to fire arrows with frozen fingers. She struck a bit of flint against the stone, holding a stick that she hoped would catch some of the sparks. Unless she had a torch, Nyx could travel no further without stumbling into darkness.

The flame came up faster than she’d expected, and Nyx nearly dropped the torch in shock as she watched it grow. With luck, she held fast, and now she had a source of light. How the Changeling could live in a cavern so dark was beyond her, but she’d studied the maps and texts Morrigan left her for days, and Nyx knew this had to be where he was. She only hoped he hadn’t moved on, or this was all for nothing.

Perseus was still with her, though she noticed the mabari growing slower. He had been an older hound at the time she rescued him in Ostagar, the caretaker had said as much. Now his age was really starting to show, though he kept up with Nyx through it all. Her constant journeying had done nothing to help his aging body.

“Hello?” Nyx called into the cavern. Both she and Perseus could use a rest, but she had to find the Changeling. Not until she was certain he was not here would she stop.

She continued to call out, crawling deeper into the dark cave. Unless her eyes were deceiving her, Nyx was approaching a light. As if someone might actually be there with more torches lit. Nyx hastened her steps, trying her best not to slide on some of the slippery patches of rock beneath her.

“Hello? Is someone there?” Nyx called again, cautiously hopeful. She whipped around a bend in the path and found a whole little living area, illuminated by nothing but glowing mushrooms and bits of full lyrium crystals set on display. An old man sat in the corner in a handmade chair, slumped over and lifeless. Her heart stopped. She’d never considered what she would do if the Changeling was dead. As long as she hadn’t found him, she could try new leads, follow new paths until she tracked him down. But dead...?

Nyx swallowed the air trapped in her mouth. She moved through the room, noting the fine rug that appeared to have Tevinter designs on it, the Orlesian silverware and plates, and the bedspread that looked as if someone’s grandmother had knitted and stitched it all together. The whole room was like that. Anything that didn’t appear to have been made by some amateur was incredibly fancy. None of it matched, and she could see signs of almost every region she knew of, and even some things from places she couldn’t name.

Nyx looked down at the old man, who had a large bald patch on the top of his head, and the barest of white wisps of hair falling around it. He was near covered in liver spots, standing out starkly against the paleness of his skin. The man’s wrinkles had wrinkles, and Nyx couldn’t tell if this man was eighty years old, or many hundreds. If he was truly dead, it would not be a terrible shock, but it would mean the end of her journey.

As Nyx reached a hand towards his shoulder, thinking to shake him gently and see if he woke, the man’s head snapped up. Nyx screamed as he grabbed her arm and squeezed his long, clammy fingers around her wrist. He grinned, his face uncomfortably close to hers.

At this angle, she could see the oddest thing about the man. His eyes, and the area around them, appeared to be at least thirty years younger than the rest of his body. Nyx pulled herself away sharply, but the man was already releasing her, causing her to stumble backwards from her own force.

The old man laughed, voice loud and grizzled. “You walk in here like you own this place, and you’re the one who’s startled?” he said. “No manners. No one has manners anymore.” He cleared his throat and started to stand.

Nyx was quick to get back on her feet, if only so she could back away from the man. He had appeared so small in the chair, but now that he stood she remembered that he was a shemlen, and she was still an elf. Not that all shems towered over her, but the height of this man rivaled even a Qunari. Perseus growled defensively beside her, but she attempted to soothe him. This man could be dangerous, whether he was who they were looking for or not.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Nyx said. She was trying her hardest not to tremble. “My name is Nyx Mahariel. I have come here seeking a mage who goes by The Changeling.”

The old man laughed again. “You Dalish and your fairytales. You would believe anything if it sounded mystical and ancient.”

Nyx’s jaw tightened. “ _People_ will believe anything if they think they can get something out of it,” she said. Given the circumstance, she did not want to react, but hearing him insult her people was not easy to swallow.

“A wise observation,” the man said. He still didn’t sound too impressed, but he no longer sounded like he was ready to mock her. “So, you have admitted you seek to get something from this mage of yours. Entertain my curiosity. What would you ask of him?”

“I have heard that the Changeling knows how to bend time. I need to return to a time before I made a horrible mistake,” Nyx told him.

The man grinned wide. It was eerie, but more so when she looked into his young eyes, set against an old man’s smile. Nyx had to look away, though she knew it made her appear weak. He had the power in the situation, and knew it well.

“There are many mistakes one can make in a lifetime. What makes yours so dire that you would seek the aid of forbidden magic?” he asked.

“This could undo the death of the one I love,” Nyx said.

“Ah,” the man said, breathing deeply. “A noble goal indeed, though far from selfless. Unless this was someone important to Thedas. To the land of Ferelden.” Now she saw something new in the curl of his lips. He knew, somehow.

“He would have been king,” Nyx admitted, her voice choking as she said this.

“A Dalish elf and the King of Ferelden?” the man said. “Hardly a situation that would work in your favor. Perhaps it is best to leave him dead, find someone new. There is plenty left in the world for you to experience. Would you really abandon all you know for him?”

“There is just one moment,” Nyx insisted. “Just one moment to change so that he may live.”

“But you will not have him,” the man said. “You will still be Dalish.”

Morrigan had mentioned something similar. _But the Changeling knows many secret magics, many ways of changing the tides of time. Perhaps you do not need to be Dalish._ The words had made no sense to Nyx at the time. Yet, now she gave it more than a mere moment of thought. What could the Changeling offer her?

“The only way to remain with him…” she began, processing the idea, “...would be as a human noblewoman. But this is entirely impossible. Even if an elf could be nobility, I could never turn myself into a shemlen. I would not wish to!”

“Even if it gave you all you wanted, you would choose not to become human?”

“I...it isn’t possible, so it doesn’t matter,” Nyx said.

The man reached behind him, grabbing a shard of glass that had been resting on the table beside him. It was one of many pieces of destroyed objects that sat in the cave dwelling. He cut into his arm, and blood flowed forth. It floated, under his control, to cover his face. Nyx nearly gagged at the grotesque noises it made as it molded over him, cracking and stretching and… _changing_ him. The blood fell from his face, covering the floor, and revealing a much younger man. He now looked like he was in his forties, and his eyes better matched the rest of his features. His hands had not changed, and remained the hands of an old man. He noticed Nyx looking at them, then ran a bit more blood over his hands, motioning as if he were washing them. Again, the blood fell from his skin and his hands were younger.

“What is a human, but a person who looks different than an elf?” the man said. “Would you truly change so much, if you were human? Inside, you would hold the same values and have the same personality. You could keep your eyes, your hair, your cheeks and lips. All of it. The only things we would change are the ears and your tattoo, which you already hide,” the man said.

Nyx could barely breathe. Her hand flew, without thought, to the bangs that covered her vallaslin, making sure the hairs were still in place. What magic she had just seen was nothing she knew. It was something she did not think any mage she’d ever met could explain. Save for, perhaps, Flemeth, but the old witch would likely not answer any question of Nyx’s in any way that made sense. The First Enchanter, Wynne, and even Morrigan would not have the knowledge to tell Nyx who or what this man was. Save for the name he went by.

“You are the Changeling after all,” Nyx said, still breathless after his display.

The man gave a slight bow. “At your service, Nyx Mahariel. Though I suppose this shall not be your name for much longer, if we can complete our task properly,” he said. “You will need a noble name, a noble house, but the right circumstances as well.”

He was drawing out vials of lyrium, sipping at one like a fine wine. Where he got all of it, Nyx hadn’t the faintest clue, but he had more than enough to sustain any mage for ten years. She also remembered the crystalline forms spread around, and wondered how he had not gone insane. Though that was, of course, assuming that he wasn’t already crazy. Perhaps he was truly a mad genius. And still he was her best chance.

“Tell me what to do, and I will see it done,” Nyx said. Determination was the only thing that remained to drive her. That, and the feeling of ghosts clawing at her back. She would be rid of those, soon.

“Patience, patience. You have all the time in the world, after all,” the Changeling said, then laughed at his own joke. Even though his features now seemed to match with one age, he terrified her. It was not just the eyes before, Nyx admitted to herself, but his presence as well. She remembered feeling a presence like this in the Archdemon, one who had the spirit of an old god. How could a mortal mage command a similar effect?

“You will need a girl, a young noblewoman whose place you can take. Someone whose circumstances align with yours in a way to bring you back to your love,” the man said. “Bring her here, to me, as well as the blood of the Archdemon.”

“Why the Archdemon?” Nyx asked.

“Even dead, the body commands power. It takes an extraordinary vessel to contain an old god,” the Changeling said.

Nyx remembered asking Riordan about creating more Wardens once. It wasn’t just a bit of darkspawn taint in her, but Archdemon blood as well, kept and preserved. It had the power to change her mind, give her the ability to sense darkspawn and this psychic connection to them. Surely, it had other uses.

“Is there anything else you require?” Nyx asked.

“You say this as if the task I’ve already given is so easy,” he said with a slight chuckle. “I require something from your past, something significant. Have the noble you select bring an object from her past as well. The rest of the...ingredients I need, I already have here. Those things should suffice. Though if you happen upon extra lyrium, it would serve well as payment.”

“Just lyrium potions?” Nyx asked. “This is no simple magic, I do not expect that you would do this for lyrium, when you already have quite the supply.”

“No, wise girl, my price is not the lyrium itself. But we can discuss these things later. First, I need to see if you can actually get the things you need before I am gone,” the Changeling said. The way his grin bared his teeth made him look like a rabid animal.

“You would leave? Getting to Denerim and back alone will take days! Not to mention the time I need to find your supplies,” Nyx said.

“You know where I am now,” the Changeling said. “If I remain too long, I risk further discovery. You know what you need to do, the limitations are your challenge to win. I suggest you get started. I will give you the time you request, but only if you are in time.”

He laughed again. She had no idea why she would trust in the word of this madman. By the amount of lyrium around him, he had to have completely lost his mind. But she remembered another strange man, the hermit in the Brecilian Forest. He had been mad, yes, but Morrigan warned he was also deadly powerful. Madness and power were not mutually exclusive to one another.

Nyx agreed, and urged Perseus to follow her back out, Her torch had, thankfully, remained lit, up until they stepped back out into the cold of the Frostback Mountains. How she would do any of this in a week she’d no idea. She at least knew she had one thing already. Nyx opened her bag to look at it again, the broken shard she’d picked up in the ruins. This eluvian had ruined her life, and at first, she kept it as a reminder of her power over it. It no longer held corruption and could not make her sick. It could not hurt Tamlen, who had been laid to rest. Now it was her connection, her piece of the past.

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx reached Denerim in record time. She’d barely stopped to rest, eating only when she desperately needed to, and stopping just for a breath every so often. Nyx had fought sleep with all her might, only giving into it when a caravan headed to the city saw her, looking like death as she stumbled forward, and offered to carry her and Perseus the rest of the way. She’d thanked them, and slipped them three sovereigns as insurance that they would not harm her. With luck, the noble she brought back to the Changeling had a horse or two they could ride back the other way.

Nyx knew she could not do much of anything until she’d gotten a decent meal and a bed to rest in. Keeping herself cloaked, to avoid recognition, she entered the Gnawed Noble Tavern, just by the market stalls. With all the reconstruction, she was glad to see that few things had changed. Gorim shouted his usual sales pitch, “Dwarven crafts! Direct from Orzammar!” Nyx never had the heart to tell anyone that this wasn’t entirely true.

Making her way to the counter, she was pleased to see that the same shady man was tending the bar. Familiarity was a comfort, even if she mostly remembered his associations with illegal dealings. Nyx was hardly one to judge anymore, involving herself with a known maleficar, so she didn’t. It was understood by most people that one did whatever they could to get by. Nyx had once thought she was different, that she could be better. She no longer believed in lies.

“A room, please. And have a warm meal and a pint of ale sent to it. I want to remain undisturbed, understood?” Nyx said in hushed tones. The man raised a brow, but when she produced a fair amount of coin, he nodded.

“Last one down that way, on your left. I’ll have one of the girls bring you something soon as I’m able. Anything else you’ll need?” the bartender asked.

“Privacy and quiet,” Nyx said, eyes narrowed. Her usually sweet face made it hard to look too threatening, but under the hood of her cloak, she looked mysterious enough to add to the effect. The bartender nodded again, looking slightly more nervous than a moment ago. She would take no risks in her dealings. Nyx did not wish to be discovered.

“First them bleedin’ Crows stay here, now everyone seems to think they can just push me around,” he muttered as Nyx walked away. She ignored the careless comments. He would be no threat to her as long as his mouth remained shut. No one had recognized her thus far, anyway, so perhaps the whole quest would go so smoothly. Nyx could only hope.

The food was a typical Ferelden style stew, grey and mealy. It reminded her of Alistair’s cooking, and for the first time, she found herself able to genuinely laugh at a memory of him. Nyx spent so much of her time mourning his loss, she had nearly forgotten to celebrate his life. Through the laughter she then found tears, a more familiar feeling, though this time they were bittersweet. Nyx remembered all the reasons there were to love Alistair, all the reasons she needed him back. She would sleep alone tonight, but promised herself that it would not be that way for much longer.

When morning came, Nyx pulled on her usual set of dragonskin armor, with a thick wool cloak over that, and shook Perseus awake. She had one job to do before she went to the palace, where she would look for Queen Anora. It was a good a start as any for who to ask about the nobility.

Her hound followed her out of the tavern and around to the quiet warehouse. She still held the map Riordan had once given her, leading to the secret Grey Warden cache. Nyx had been so caught up in the Landsmeet and everything that followed, she never took the time to stop by and check what was in the storage. Since she’d avoided the Wardens since the end of the Blight, they remained untouched and undiscovered. Not even the darkspawn had infiltrated the building to take what remained.

This was where Riordan said there might be stores of Archdemon blood and the Ferelden records on how to perform the Joining. The place was a dusted-over mess. Nyx sighed deeply, and got to work going through everything that remained. There were old stores of potions, armors, and weapons. She found a few extra arrows amidst the supplies, enchanted with elemental magic. Nyx packed them into her quiver, worried about what dangers she might face on her return visit to the Changeling.

Perseus barked, causing Nyx to jump. She hurried over to his side, and found that he was sniffing at a selection of vials. There was a symbol on the outside she didn’t recognize of a dragon curled in on itself. Nyx lifted one to the light to examine it. It was like darkspawn blood, thick red with thin black strands like worms constantly moving within, but had an odd sheen to it like oil. She swirled it around to watch it catch the light. This had to be the archdemon blood.

Nyx gathered a few vials, packing them carefully in a pouch, and tucked them into her bag. The glass was fairly thick, so they wouldn’t smash too easily, but the last thing she wanted were exploding and leaking vials of darkspawn blood. Her mabari whined. Even closed there was a foul smell leaking from them. Nyx scratched behind Perseus’ ear, hoping to soothe him. He couldn’t stay with her much longer.

Nyx left the warehouse, ready to make her way to the castle. At the gates, she finally removed the hood of her cloak, and introduced herself properly as the Hero of Ferelden. She might have abandoned all her duties as a Warden, but the title was still hers to carry. It helped when she needed to get into places that were heavily guarded. Nyx showed the guards a medal bestowed on the Hero of Ferelden, just in case her word was not proof enough for them. They let her pass.

“Well, when I was told who had asked for an audience with me, I scarcely believed it. But here you are, Hero of Ferelden. I am told by the Wardens at Amaranthine that you have still not shown your face there. I make no suggestion that we can tell you what to do, but they might like to see you stand with them,” Anora said, practically gliding into the throne room before she sat. She looked even more regal than she had the day Nyx last saw her. She wore her hair the same way as always, but her gown was the likes of something one might see in Orlais.

“Your majesty,” Nyx said, bowing low. “I apologize for my absence. There have been matters of great importance that needed seeing to. Secret missions of the Wardens, passed onto me from Riordan, before he died in battle. I now require your aid, in these matters.”

“This is the first I have heard of such a thing,” Anora said. She was not going to be easy to convince of the lie. Nyx had known this even before she entered Denerim. What Anora lacked in compassion, she made up for with cleverness. She was not a kind queen, but she was fierce and did what was needed to keep order in Ferelden. Nyx regretted ever thinking she was the better candidate for the throne.

“I mean no insult, my queen, but if you had heard of it, my mission would no longer be a secret,” Nyx said. Anora nodded, apparently accepting this logic. “I require the names of any noble families whom Duncan might have visited before his arrival at Ostagar. He assessed many recruits before selecting me, when he happened upon my clan by chance in the Brecilian Forest. I was told that he sought recruits amongst the dwarves as well as some of the human nobility. We Wardens hoped to look into those potential recruits once more, to get our numbers back up.”

“Interesting,” Anora said, raising a single brow. “Your fellow Wardens in Amaranthine, placed there at my behest, tell me they have received a fair number of recruits since the incidents there. They were inspired by your bravery, and that of your peers. But still you seek more to join the Grey Wardens?”

“It is not about numbers alone, your majesty. Those whom Duncan was sent to meet among the nobility were said to possess great skill in battle. These are not simply recruits for Amaranthine, but recruits for myself. I seek only the best to travel at my side,” Nyx said.

She only vaguely remembered her time alone with Duncan, on their way to Ostagar, but she remembered enough to spin this tale. Nyx had asked almost incessantly, “Why me?” Duncan would say time and again that her skill was great and that she had proved herself to him. Only once did he tell her about the others he had sought.

There were brave warriors among the dwarves, but they had such pride and many of them did not wish to become surfacers. There were those with cleverness and strength in the Alienage, but after a scandal arose with the nobles, there wasn’t much of a choice for him there anymore. There had been few amongst the nobles themselves that seemed worthy of the Joining. Duncan seemed particularly sad when he said that he’d hoped to recruit one young lady, but she had fled his side after he’d rescued her. He never explained why she might have left, or what he’d rescued her from, but she knew for a fact that there had been a young female noble who had once been worthy of becoming a Warden. That was the person Nyx hoped to find.

“I understand, though you must know that the noble families are still busying themselves with fortifying their lands after the Blight. The darkspawn do not discriminate in whom they kill. Many nobles suffered losses of their own. Do not be surprised if they turn you away,” Queen Anora warned.

“I only wish to meet them. It will be their decision whether they join me or not,” Nyx said.

Anora nodded sharply, then called for her steward to bring the records. She found what she was seeking with impressive quickness, then gestured for Nyx to approach and collect what was needed. The steward brought along parchment with a quill and some ink, so Nyx could copy the names. There was only one that Nyx needed, the very last whom Duncan had visited.

“The Couslands?” Nyx read aloud. “I don’t remember them being a part of the Landsmeet.”

“They weren’t,” Anora said simply. “By that time most of the family was slaughtered. In fact, many thought they’d all died together. Apparently Rendon Howe, the bastard, betrayed them even before my father made him Arl. He’d been a scoundrel from the start. However, after the Blight, the two young siblings of the family resurfaced. Apparently the sister had escaped the night her house was massacred, and went to find her brother. They remained in hiding for a time, uncertain that their family could see justice. They only showed up after the Blight had ended, hoping to reclaim the land that Howe had stolen.”

“How awful,” Nyx said. She had known Howe was a terrible man, but never thought him capable of going to such lengths as this. Now she could have no doubt in her mind that killing him had been the right thing to do.

“Indeed. Anyway, I granted them the land back, though I couldn’t afford to send many soldiers to help remove Howe’s men who remained there. Not after our losses at Denerim. I heard word that they gathered what coin they had to hire mercenaries and thugs to help them. They have their land back, but at a price, it seems,” Anora said, scrunching up her nose in disgust.

“That is...unfortunate,” Nyx said carefully. “Thank you, your majesty. That will be all I require. The sister still lives, is that correct?”

“Yes. Her name is Hera Cousland. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d been meaning to send a missive about their land,” Anora said, waving to her steward once more to fetch the letter. He returned a minute later with a sealed letter, the royal seal stamped in wax on the outside to seal it shut. “Bring that with you, Warden, and hand it to Fergus Cousland, Hera’s elder brother. It should also help you gain entry, as it bears my seal.”

“Thank you, your majesty. I shall see this done immediately,” Nyx said. She bowed again and was preparing to leave.

“Oh, and Warden?” Anora said, stopping Nyx in her tracks. “Please return when you are able. There is...unrest, in the Alienage once more. Perhaps if they heard from one of their own, we could make a deal to help them settle down.”

Nyx tried not to react too visibly, instead simply nodding. “As you wish, Queen Anora.” She did not mention that she would not be returning to Denerim, not as she was. Anora would not have an elf in her pocket anymore, to quell anger without needing to actually care about the plight of the elvhen.

Leaving Denerim behind, Nyx set her sights on the lands of the Bannorn, to find the home of the Couslands. With luck, Hera Cousland would be easy to convince to join her. If this was the same woman who had left Duncan to help her brother, playing the Grey Warden card was not likely to work as it did on most others. She would have to get to know this woman before Nyx could bring her along. Nyx hoped that she would not grow fond of the Cousland woman, for if what she feared of the Changeling’s ritual was true, the Cousland would not survive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was initially just going to have a generic Elissa Cousland, but something felt right about having my own noblewoman Warden in here. I just know her personality really well.


	3. The Ritual

Fergus Cousland was a very accommodating sort, making certain that Nyx was fed properly after the journey she’d taken to Highever. He’d been upset by Anora’s letter, she could tell, but he was still kind to her. He apologized for all the noise of rebuilding around them and offered a fine room for her to stay in.

“It was once my room, before...before the Blight,” Fergus said. Of course, they both knew this was not what he meant. He meant before his family was brutally slaughtered in their own home, but Nyx did not expect it to be easy to talk about. She had lost Alistair, but Fergus had lost both his wife and son. Nyx couldn’t imagine what losing a child was like.

“Then I’m sure it is a fine place to stay,” Nyx said, putting on a smile. “But I don’t think I’ll be here that long.”

“I still can’t believe, of all the people to visit out of the blue, that it would be the Hero of Ferelden!” Fergus said. “I thought the guards were pulling my leg, for a moment there.”

“I can’t think of another explanation for a Dalish woman to seek you out,” Nyx said.

“No, I suppose that is true. My sister would love to meet you. The Dalish have fascinated her since she was a girl. She was brokenhearted when we broke it to her that the Dalish only accept elves. Oh, I apologize, that isn’t offensive to you, is it?” Fergus said.

Were it most other humans, Nyx probably would have been uncomfortable, but Fergus was so genuine, she found she didn’t mind. Plus, Nyx needed his sister and needed her trust, so hearing that this human woman _admired_ the Dalish - not feared or hated them - was encouraging.

“I don’t mind. It is actually refreshing to hear that a sh- ...a human respects my people,” Nyx said.

“Yes, well, blame the tall tales our nanny used to tell her. Hera was always a wild girl, never could calm down. When Nan tried to warn her away with stories of the Dalish, it backfired, and Hera only decided that she wanted to run away and join them. My father could not stop laughing when she declared her plans. My mother looked as if she might faint,” Fergus said. He was staring off into the distance, looking wistful.

“They sound like they loved the two of you very much,” Nyx said, offering her sympathy. “I never had the chance to know my real parents, but being raised by my clan...it felt like they were all my family. Though I always did want to know what my real mother and father were like,” Nyx admitted.

That life felt like it was ages ago. The time where she’d run around Ashalle in circles asking question after question about where she came from, only to hide shyly behind her legs when Master Ilen went on a tirade. Then, Tamlen would try to talk her into playing a prank on Merrill, who would cry whenever he succeeded. Which left Nyx to console the poor girl before Tamlen got them into any more trouble. Those days, the only questions she couldn’t get straight answers to were about her parents, but if she asked about the Creators, any hahren in the clan would sit her down for hours to recite old stories.

If she took the body of a human, of this noblewoman, she couldn’t claim her Dalish heritage any longer. She couldn’t take pride in defying the needs of shemlen to cage themselves in stone. Nyx had been thinking about this since she left the Changeling. There were moments, small ones, where she wondered if this was truly worth the price she would pay to be with Alistair forever. When doubt set in, so did the cold. Nyx shivered with each question her mind assailed her with.

“Brother? I was told someone was here to see me?” Hera Cousland shouted through the halls.

Nyx felt every muscle in her tighten at the sound of the woman’s voice. This would be the woman who she would replace. She couldn’t bear to see this Cousland as a person. When she was some name without a face, it was much easier to imagine handing her over to the Changeling. Hera was nothing like Nyx would have thought to picture.

Hera Cousland was tall and muscular. She had the look of a warrior, but the grace of a rogue. On her face she bore tattoos, surrounding blue-green eyes in a permanent mask. She wore her striking orange hair in a tight ponytail, with only the slightest wisps falling on the sides of her face. The way her brows arched slightly gave her a harsh appearance and there was a commanding power in her voice. It was no surprise, seeing her now, that Duncan had wanted to recruit Hera. Even with one look, Nyx could see she would be valuable in a fight.

“Greetings,” Nyx said, standing and bowing her head slightly. “My name is Nyx Mahariel, of the Dalish. You’d be more likely to know me as Hero of Ferelden, however.”

Hera’s eyes widened slightly, but it was clear she was trying not to give away her excitement. It wasn’t everyday someone who fought the Archdemon walked through your door, and this one was particularly special.

“Oh,” Hera breathed. “Andeerayn ateeshayn. That is what your people say, is it not?”

“Yes,” Nyx said, with some surprise. The pronunciation was off, but the idea of the phrase was still there. “I was not aware that any humans knew of our language.”

“I’ve read everything I could get my hands on about your people. They absolutely fascinate me. It would be great to get up close and really study them, but you know how they are.”

Nyx grimaced. She had to gain this woman’s trust, but that could not slide. “Study? The Dalish are not here for entertainment, shem.”

“I didn’t mean... That sounded much worse than I intended. Sorry,” Hera said. “I just meant that I revere your people for their strength. The elven culture shouldn’t be given up simply because it was taken. We should all be fighting to restore what we can, and-!”

“Sister, please,” Fergus sighed. He’d probably heard this speech and ones quite similar to it numerous times. “The Hero of Ferelden surely knows all this. She was the one, after all, to request that the queen grant her people land of their own.”

“Yes, of course,” Hera said. “It’s simply been a long time since I really thought about this so seriously.” She turned to Nyx. “What do you know of our family?”

“I was told by Queen Anora how your family was betrayed. Had I known… Well, it was I that killed Howe. I knew he was corrupt, but I’d no clue just how far he would have gone for power,” Nyx said.

“So it _was_ you? We heard rumors, but of course by the time word was really spreading about that, there were also the stories of the battle in Denerim. It seemed like the kind of thing people would just say to add to the legend of the great Hero of Ferelden. I’d say that my family owes you a debt of gratitude, but I had meant to sink my own dagger into that bastard’s cold heart,” Hera said. She made no effort to hide the bitter tone she spoke with.

“Revenge is a complicated thing,” Nyx said. “Often it is not as satisfying as you’d hope it to be, from my observations. It likes to disguise itself as justice.”

“Killing Howe _was_ just. He took advantage of people, slaughtered my entire family… My nephew was six years old. Howe deserved whatever brutal end you gave him, ten times over,” Hera said.

“Howe deserved it, of that I have no doubt. I apologize. This can’t be an easy conversation for you to have,” Nyx said, lowering her gaze.

“No… No it really isn’t.” Hera paused, lips pulled tight as she let her gaze fall to the side. Her hands clenched her skirts. Hera would have been more comfortable in her armor, but Fergus insisted she try to look the part of nobility when guests came to see her. Instead she was vulnerable, now physically as well as mentally.

“I apologize for my anger. Since I left here I have felt powerless. Even finding Fergus…” Hera said. She fell back onto a chair, burying her head in her hands and pushing the small strands of hair back from her face.

“Sister,” Fergus said, standing to go to Hera. “You cannot blame yourself for their deaths any longer.”

“I don’t. I blame Howe. That doesn’t mean there wasn’t more I could have done,” Hera said. Then she sighed deeply, forcing herself to regain some composure. “This can’t be what you came here for, Hero of Ferelden.”

“Just Nyx will do,” Nyx said, voice quieter now.

“Nyx, then. I am sure your time is valuable, so I won’t have us waste it any longer on such dramatics. Tell me, what brings a Warden to the Cousland estate?” Hera said, waving a hand in the air as if to banish her thoughts. She smiled now, though it was slight. Nyx could see the way Hera’s face softened from even the simple curling of her lips.

“It isn’t the first time a Grey Warden has been here, is that correct?” Nyx said.

“Yes,” Fergus answered. “A Warden by the name of Duncan was here the day I left. He was the man, in fact, that rescued my sister from Howe’s men.”

“I also understand that he meant to recruit you?” Nyx said, her gaze remaining on Hera. It was hard to miss the passing look of shame in the noblewoman’s eyes.

“Yes, he did. Call it what it is, if you’ve come to take me in. I deserted. I left in the middle of the night and ran because I couldn’t go with the Wardens when my brother was out there somewhere, with no idea of what happened here. I don’t regret the decision, but I must admit, I was hoping that knowledge died with Duncan,” Hera said.

“Duncan was the one to recruit me, as well,” Nyx said. “He was a great man. Saved my life.”

“Of course. That I agree with fully and, for my life, I could say the same. Had the circumstances been any different, I would have been honored to become a Warden,” Hera said. “That was my plan, before Howe’s betrayal. I wanted to go with Duncan. But when I lost my parents...so much changed.”

“I understand,” Nyx said. “The law might say one thing, but we are people. I do not expect you to let go of your obligations to your family just for the sake of the Wardens.”

“So, you aren’t here to bring me in for desertion?” Hera asked.

“No. I wouldn’t dream of it, given all you’ve been through. I would, however, like to offer you a second chance at participating in the Joining. The Grey Wardens of Denerim are still so few after Loghain’s betrayal. Anyone who Duncan acknowledged as possessing skill, I would agree deserves a place among us,” Nyx said.

Given Hera’s history of deserting, Nyx prayed silently that this would be enough. She wasn’t sure what to use as a plan B.

“You mean join the Wardens? Now? There is no Blight any longer. What need have Wardens when the darkspawn are no threat?” Hera asked.

It was true. Duncan had mentioned that most people had forgotten the need for the Wardens. Even King Cailan, despite seeing the great honor in their order, hadn’t taken the darkspawn threat seriously. Most hadn’t heeded the warnings of the Blight at all. Nyx sometimes wished she could have shown others her nightmares of the Archdemon. It was proof enough of the severity.

But without a Blight, people stopped believing in the need of the Wardens again. It was slow at first, but it was quickly returning to a status quo of not caring about darkspawn. If only Fereldans could remember that beneath their very feet stretched the Deep Roads, where the darkspawn festered and multiplied, threatening Orzammar and Kal-Sharok. It was there that many Wardens went, helping the dwarves and their Legion of the Dead push back the darkspawn.

“There is still a need,” Nyx said patiently. “The Deep Roads are still full of their kind. We must remain vigilant.”

“That’s a problem for the dwarves, isn’t it?” Hera said.

Truly, the disconnection nobles had to the world was astounding. Nyx could not judge too harshly on this matter, however, as even her people hadn’t understood dwarves and their love of the underground. There were days after their long journey through Orzammar and the Deep Roads where Nyx caught herself just staring up at the sky. Oghren had once joked that she looked like she was starting to fall up into it.

“The dwarves alone are so few, and still they give so much to keep their people safe. It is our duty to help. But this is not the only reason for Wardens to be needed,” Nyx said. Hera was the sort who wanted adventure and glory. That much was obvious. Nyx had to offer something more tantalizing than years of fighting in the Deep Roads to lure her.

“I require a companion,” Nyx said. “A Warden of great strength to accompany me on a rather dangerous mission. I have sought all whom Duncan mentioned considering, but you are the only one he almost took with him. One reason or another, the others never journeyed with him.”

“Aren’t there any Wardens who have already joined that would be appropriate for this? Or your companions from the Blight?” Fergus asked. He placed his hands on Hera’s shoulders.

“If they were of use to the Hero of Ferelden, I’m sure she would already have those allies at her disposal. But they aren’t here, she is. I am,” Hera said, shrugging her brother’s hands off of her to stand. “What exactly are you doing?”

“There is a powerful and old apostate whose magic could be of use to us, but he might also be too dangerous to deal with and require...execution. I would have a templar along but they would likely kill him outright, and we can’t have that,” Nyx said. The best lies were born of partial truths. That was something Tamlen helped her learn long ago.

“The help of an apostate?! The Wardens would truly sink so low?” Fergus said.

“The Wardens take any help there is to be offered,” Nyx said slowly. The anti-magic sentiment was still fairly new to her, having been raised to revere her Keeper. Nyx had teased Merrill, but that was never because she was a mage, but because she was Merrill. It was like Nyx and Tamlen were picking on their younger sister. Nyx loved them, and had so relied on Morrigan, the word apostate was empty to her. It meant freedom, not danger.

“It’s why they’ve the Right of Conscription, brother,” Hera said, speaking to Fergus as if he were a child. “Wardens will take every measure necessary to defeat darkspawn and kill Archdemons. And you should be damn grateful for it.”

“I _am_ , sister,” Fergus said through grit teeth. “I simply wonder what could make this apostate so worth seeking.”

“I’m afraid I can’t share any more information, for your sake as well as mine,” Nyx said. “Just trust that it is important, and can reshape Ferelden to give it a better future.” This was no lie. Not to Nyx.

Fergus was still doubtful, but looked between the two women and sighed heavily. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger into his temples. “Hera,” he said, “if you believe this is worth doing, then go. The Hero of Ferelden…” Fergus lowered his hand to look Nyx in the eye. “I trust you would not ask this of us lightly.”

“No,” Nyx said.

“Then I shall join you,” Hera decided.

“And I shall pray to the Maker that you are kept safe. Return to me someday, sister. I know the Wardens will have need of you, but you are all I have left,” Fergus said.

Hera went to embrace her brother, who seemed barely able to hold his composure any longer. Nyx could not watch them. She could not lie and say that Hera would be safe, or even that she would return. The road the two women would travel would be a dark one, but only Nyx would be aware of the danger ahead.

“Before you prepare,” Nyx said, stopping Hera from her jog towards the door, “I suggest you bring something of personal value with you. Something from before the Blight, even. Having something with personal significance can make difficult nights as a Warden easier.”

“Is this a common practice among Grey Wardens?” Hera asked, smirking.

“For recruits, yes,” Nyx lied. The Changeling needed something of Hera’s. She trusted that the Cousland woman would know herself well enough to bring the object that suited their needs.

Hera left to gather her things. Nyx insisted it would be better for her to linger by the front gate. Fergus agreed. When the Cousland girl reappeared, she was donned in fine light armor, the decorative sort that a noble would desire, with two daggers strapped to her back. Hera grinned, turquoise eyes gleaming, and asked Nyx if she was ready to leave.

“Not yet, actually,” Nyx said. Her mabari had been at heel the entire time, though exhausted he’d slept through the conversation earlier. Now he stood by her side, sleepily, but there. Nyx leaned down so that she was level with Perseus, who gave a happy bark in greeting.

“Hey, boy,” Nyx cooed, scratching his ears. Perceptive as always, her mabari whined. She hated to do this, but knew it was necessary. “Perseus, I want you to stay here. With Fergus.”

Now the dog howled in protest. He was stamping his front paws, causing quite the scene. He charged forward and butted his head against Nyx. Had he put his whole weight into it, she would have fallen flat. Instead she just felt his head hit her shins with a bit of force, only enough to make her stumble a bit. He whined again.

“No, Perseus, I won’t take you with me,” Nyx said. “This is dangerous and I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”

Hera scoffed. “But you could bear to see me hurt?” she muttered. Hera did not want to admit that she understood this decision. Her own mabari was locked in her room, sleeping soundly. Fergus would go insane when he realized the faithful Scooby had been left behind.

Nyx did not hear Hera’s comment. She was too focused on Perseus. “You will be happy here,” Nyx said, trying for a voice like a mother’s. “They will have fine meats to keep you fed, warm beds, and I’m sure Fergus would play with you all you want. You’ll have to be his hound now, Percy.” She rarely used the nickname, but when she did, there was a reason. The mabari had been smart enough to pick up on this pattern.

He barked again, then howled mournfully, but it was clear the way he sat back that he would stay. Nyx hugged him, hoping she could find him again in the new life she sought. Back with the Dalish, she’d always wanted a halla companion of her own. Her time among shemlen made her forget all about those desires. Nyx could live without a halla, but could no longer imagine life without her mabari. Leaving Perseus behind would not be the hardest part of this quest of hers, but it was the first moment Nyx would have said she truly struggled.

Hera received a grand goodbye from the guardsmen outside, who seemed genuinely sad to see their mistress go. The noblewoman waved back at them, and even winked at one. Whatever was going on there, Nyx was certain she did not want or need to know.

♢♢♢♢♢

It would be a fair journey back to the cavern where the Changeling lived. Hera was accustomed to travel, but not as much as Nyx was. Trying to keep pace with the Warden was not easy, and proved to be impossible, at a point. They slowed together to accommodate for the difference in experience.

Nyx’s anxious tension was evident in the way she carried herself. Hera wondered many times if she should say something. It was hard for her to imagine the Hero of Ferelden being so worried about one apostate. After all, one of the circulating stories was of how she and her comrades saved the mages of the Circle tower from numerous abominations and blood mages. Nyx had mentioned this mage having great power, however, and if he didn’t cooperate, he might turn that power on them.

They set up camp for the night. Sitting at the campfire in silence, Nyx continued to turn the stick she’d tied a wild hare to. It wasn’t much, but it was food. Hera still couldn’t get over having seen one of the great Dalish hunters in action. She took the rabbit out with one shot through the eye. Hera was good at sneaking around, but was terrible with a bow, so she preferred to set traps when she had to fend for herself in the wilds.

“Do you think you could show me the item of value you brought?” Nyx asked suddenly.

Hera thought for a moment she’d imagined the Dalish woman speaking, but when she looked up, Nyx’s light brown eyes were fixed on Hera. She was expecting a reply.

“I don’t see why not,” Hera said. She rifled through a pouch on her hip, then produced an amulet. The center pendant hung from a golden chain, which complimented the large red gem fairly nicely. The gem was encircled by two curved laurels, a symbol which Nyx recognized from the Cousland estate.

“It’s an old family heirloom. It was supposedly enchanted with the gift of luck, but...well, given my history I suppose the enchantment faded,” Hera said with a hollow laugh. “Either way, it’s still precious to me. Mother gave it to me when I came of age. She told me that maybe its luck would bring me a good husband. Unfortunately for her, I am thoroughly uninterested in marriage.”

“Why?” Nyx said.

“Plenty of reasons. But, to keep it short, I’m young and don’t want to settle down with some bland husband to bear his ugly children. There is a world out there, and I can hardly see it if I’m stuck nursing babies,” Hera said. She tucked the amulet back into her pouch. She hadn’t worn the thing around her neck since the day her parents died.

“What if you find love?” Nyx asked.

“If I do, then that would certainly be something. But still, marriage? It’s got such...permanence to it,” Hera said. She shuddered a little. “If you get bored of your husband, at best you can have a few affairs.”

“Sounds...Antivan,” Nyx said, turning the rabbit again. It wasn’t like she could tell Hera that this whole journey, the whole purpose of their travels was for a man. No. Not just any man. That made it sound like it wasn’t worth the time or effort. It was for Alistair, and Nyx planned to stay by his side forever. At least, she hoped to.

“Pfft, hardly,” Hera said, taking a stick to poke the fire with. “To be truly Antivan you need to spill a bit of blood.”

“I should introduce you to a friend of mine,” Nyx muttered.

Hera didn’t quite hear her, but didn’t ask for her to repeat what she’d said either. A minute or two later, Nyx removed the rabbit from the fire, and tore off a few pieces of the meat to eat before passing the stick over to Hera. They returned to their comfortable silence, eating their prize before they grew tired. Without their mabari to stand as watchdogs, they alternated sleeping to stand guard. They were still exhausted by the time they needed to repack their bedrolls and continue onward.

♢♢♢♢♢

The pair made it to their destination. Nyx tried to keep her cool. Hera could not know that anything was wrong. She hated that she now knew about her traveling companion enough for the betrayal to sting, but she refused to turn back regardless. The price that Nyx would pay was guilt for whatever happened to Hera. But she told herself again and again that she was leaving this world behind, leaving for a different time. Perhaps Hera would still exist in some right, despite Nyx taking her place. It wasn’t as comforting to think on this as she’d hoped it might be.

Nyx was worried with each step deeper into the cavern. She attempted to reassure herself that the mage had no reason to break his promise. This was no comfort, as he had no reason to _keep_ it either. All she could hope was that, after all the time it took for her to find Hera and return, that he was still there.

They pressed on, feeling the weight of the encircling darkness. The only thing that kept them from completely losing their way was the torches they carried. Nyx was looking for a different light, less orange and more blue. The shine of the underground mushrooms and the lyrium crystals the Changeling surrounded him with were a brilliant azure. They would be unmissable in the dark cave. But Nyx was so certain she should have reached the odd mage’s little dwelling by now.

They rounded a corner, and Nyx released a breath she’d forgotten she was holding. There was a slight blue shimmer ahead, just enough that she knew they were going the right way. Nyx waved for Hera to continue following, quickening her pace just slightly. The stone beneath their feet was slippery, so she dared not run, but she didn’t want to wait longer than she had to.

“My, my, girl, but you do like to leave things to the last minute,” the Changeling said, back in his usual chair. He’d returned to his older appearance. Knowing what she did, Nyx found this disguise more threatening, somehow. Like he was a snake in camouflage, waiting for the moment to strike.

Hera, on the other hand, just saw a strange old man in a chair, surrounded by strange trinkets, broken objects, and enough lyrium for about a hundred templars to get a good fix. She spied the old metal staff, leaned against the wall behind the mage. Hera wanted one of her daggers in her hand, just in case the old man was prepared for a fight, but she waited while Nyx stepped forward. Hera was curious, after all, about what the odd mage was referring to.

“I moved as quickly as I could,” Nyx said.

“Of course. Had you taken much longer, though, you would be looking at nothing but the mushrooms on the cave walls!” the Changeling said.

“I’m sorry, but what is going on here?” Hera said, stepping forward.

“Ah,” the Changeling remarked, “the noblewoman. A Cousland girl. Unsurprising choice, but fitting. And the blood?”

“I have it,” Nyx said. She placed her pack down to find the sack of vials, producing the shard of the eluvian from the bag as well. “And the significant item.”

“These will do nicely,” the Changeling said.

Hera’s hand twitched. This was not what Nyx had described earlier. He was an apostate, and she was seeking his help, but blood? A mirror shard? All of it spelled out “maleficar” in big, bold letters in Hera’s mind. This was the Hero of Ferelden. Nyx should not be mixed up in blood magic.

Yet, here she was, undeniably looking to help this mage perform the most dangerous kind of magic. But to what end?

“Warden,” Hera said, trying her best to sound commanding despite the fear in her, “please tell me exactly what you’re doing. I’m pretty sure the Wardens don’t seek the aid of blood magic.”

The Changeling laughed, ugly and loud. “They have used it before. It is a little known secret, however. Couldn’t tarnish the reputations of legends.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nyx said quietly. Her head was hung. “Please, give me your amulet.”

Hera clutched her left hand over the pouch where the necklace remained. Her right reached over her shoulder to grip a dagger. She couldn’t see herself fighting her way out of this. Angry tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

“You _lied_ ,” Hera hissed. “Are you even the Hero of Ferelden? Please tell me that was a lie too, and you simply fooled us all.”

“There is no way for me to ask forgiveness,” Nyx said.

Her eyes were dark. There was something in them Hera hadn’t noticed before. The Dalish woman had always looked melancholy. Hera assumed there were losses suffered during the war, but did not pry. Now Hera saw the depth of despair in Nyx, the desperation and loathing. Worst of all, she saw determination. Hera was positive now that she could not leave this place alive.

Normally, when given the choice between fight or flight, Hera always landed on fight without a thought. That was how it was meant to work, after all. It was instinct and action. For the first time Hera could properly recall, she wound up trying to flee instead.

Whipping around, Hera intended to tear from the cave and not look back. She couldn’t maintain a torch light while running, but perhaps she could at least hide herself from discovery. She would not take part in their disturbed ritual, no matter what their plan was.

Yet, Hera smacked into something invisible, falling backwards. A magical barrier. She turned her head to see the mage gripping his staff. He was younger-looking than he’d been before, though still had the same deep blue eyes and pronounced cheekbones. Like Nyx, Hera knew this transformation was no regular form of magic. This was no school taught in the Circles of Thedas. Regardless of what it was or where it came from, it was dark.

“What are you?” Hera whispered.

Nyx knelt in front of Hera, extending a hand. She wanted the amulet. Hera gripped the pouch tighter.

“What part does this play in your plan?” Hera asked. “And why take me? If you meant for a blood sacrifice to be made it shouldn’t matter who it is. Why?”

“Just give me the amulet, please,” Nyx asked again. Hera spat at her. Nyx recoiled and stood. Now it was the Changeling’s turn to approach the woman they held captive.

“Our friend here has been so polite, asking with kindness,” he spoke. His voice was cold, but enveloped Hera with its fullness. She felt it enclose around her, not in a way to comfort, but in a way that threatened to squeeze her until she broke.

“I can assure you,” he continued, “that you will not receive the same kindness from me.”

He waved his hand, and Hera felt her flesh burn. Just for a few moments, but enough to send searing pain over her entire body. Hera screamed. Every part of her stung. All over her skin felt like it was on fire. Then it was gone. It was enough to set the threat into her mind.

Hera pawed at the pouch, hands trembling, and took out the amulet to give it to the mage. The Changeling grinned, looking rather predatory, and thanked her. He gestured for Nyx to follow him back. Hera remained frozen in place on the ground.

Nyx watched the Changeling prepare things. He poured the Archdemon blood over the eluvian shard and the amulet. The objects soaked up the thick liquid, like bread in oil.The Changeling cut patterns into his arms with a fine pointed knife. The designs were intricate and precise. He swallowed a mouthful of lyrium potion, then stepped to a point in between the two women.

The Changeling gathered his mana, extending his arms out. His fingers curled in stiffly, palms raised upwards. Slowly, the mage lifted his arms. The women lifted into the air as he did this, both of them beginning to choke. It wasn’t their throats alone that were constricted, but their entire bodies. Finally, the Changeling willed the blood from his intricate carvings, flowing in outwards towards both of the women.

It ran over them, cracking bones and shifting musculature. It was every part as excruciating as it sounded, the snapping and squishing echoing in the tiny concave space. Both of them would have been screaming if not for their crushing prisons, squeezing their terror into gasps for air.

Then there was another sensation, not of pain, but of removal. It didn’t hurt in the normal sense. It did not sting or ache or throb, but it was hollow and floaty in the most unpleasant way. It was the feeling of wishing that nothing was touching you, even when the only thing on your skin was your clothes. It was followed by intense and swift tugging, then tearing, and the urge to scream returned. There was one last round of bones snapping into their new places, then they settled into a dull ache.

The women fell simultaneously. Each wheezed and coughed as their lungs begged for air. Nyx was the first to lift her eyes. She was disoriented from the intense pain, but noticed that she was on the side of the room where Hera had been. Nyx lifted a hand to her ear, and instead of the sharp, extruding point, she felt smooth, round, and flat ears.

The dysphoria crashed inside her like a wave. Nyx was human. _Human._ This wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. But she kept touching her ears, sitting up on her knees, trying to find the part where she would believe the change was real. She went over her goals and memories in her head, again and again, until she knew it was truly her inside this new body. She knew her past and future, and that was enough reassurance that she was the same person.

The Changeling had altered it so she was shorter, less muscled, and generally more delicate-looking. Pulling a bit of her short hair forward, she noted the same black color it had been before. She looked for one of the broken pieces of mirror the mage left lying around. It wasn’t a safe place to be in while barefoot. Nyx discovered a piece, though not without cutting up her hands a bit as she lifted it. Same honey-colored eyes with their wide, round shape. Same pale skin. The Changeling had kept every feature as close to the original as possible. The only thing she saw as slightly off was that she felt like her eyes were a bit high up on her face. And perhaps her cheeks had been shallower , but of that she wasn’t certain.

Nyx looked to the other side of the dwelling, where Hera sat. Hera’s hands had not moved from her pointed ears. She was frozen in fear, almost catatonic. If not for the slight movement of her chest as she breathed, she would have appeared to be completely stunned by magic. It wasn’t magic that kept her still, however. Just sheer terror.

Nyx could see that Hera had changed as well. It was Nyx’s elven body, but muscled and longer, to suit Hera’s looks. From her head sprouted wild and untamed fiery hair and her wide eyes were the same blue-green. Her features were sharp, a long straight nose and smaller eyes than Nyx had. Hera’s skin had the same tanned complexion. Most notable was that her face bore the vallaslin. It was not the same pattern Nyx had before, but something wilder and bolder. Nyx recognized the design as representing Andruil, the hunter goddess.

Nyx looked back into the mirror shard, lifting her bangs to see if there was any trace of her own vallaslin, that of Ghilan’nain, but no such patterning was present. She didn’t even have Hera’s tattoos. Her face bore no ink, no scars. She placed the shard down and stood.

Her legs buckled beneath her weight. The new body felt alien. Nyx tested every muscle. Her calves tightened then relaxed on command. Her fingers curled and spread. Her shoulders lifted and fell. Nyx tensed her face, trying to see if she could feel any changes she’d not noted by sight, but it felt the same. The way her eyes crinkled, her lips pursed, and her nose scrunched all felt right. It was slowly feeling more like she belonged in this body, but still it was hard to shake the feeling that she was a stranger in this skin.

“Are you pleased with my work? Does it satisfy your needs?” the Changeling asked her.

“It...feels almost perfect,” Nyx breathed. “But it still...it isn’t mine.”

“It will be, give it time,” the Changeling said, sounding almost soothing. “Now, the second piece. Are you ready to go back?”

“Yes,” Nyx said. There was no hesitation in her now. She had come this far, hurt Hera so badly. If she found a new Hera in the world she travelled to, she would try to make up for the sins of this life. Even if the next Hera had no clue what had been done.

The Changeling grabbed Hera’s arm, dragging her forward. She resisted, though in her weakened state it was useless to struggle. She seemed to realize this quickly, as her resistance ceased soon after. The Changeling summoned a rune of paralysis beneath Hera’s body, holding her still. He carved markings into her arms like he had into his own. Despite being frozen, tears still rose to Hera’s eyes and Nyx could almost sense the pain that echoed through her. That body had once belonged to Nyx. Perhaps there was still a slight tie or connection to it.

The patterns he carved were not the same as the ones on the Changeling’s own arms. It was not in design alone, but in the way they stretched further, up Hera’s arms to her shoulders. He had to unbuckle and remove the woman’s armor, letting it fall to the ground and leaving Hera in her smallclothes so he could continue his work. The mage traced curving lines with the tip of his knife across Hera’s chest, the pattern pointing downwards like an arrow, but trailing down further on her skin before blooming over Hera’s stomach. Despite the intricacy of the patterns, the fineness of the lines, the Changeling carved them with almost no effort. He worked swiftly, too.

From every line he drew Hera’s blood. It rose into the air, mimicking the patterns on her skin. The Changeling splashed a bit of lyrium onto Hera’s skin. She wanted to scream from the pain this brought her. Then the mage lifted the pattern a second time, the blood now emitting a faint blue glow from the lyrium it mixed with. The two symbols of blood passed through one another, so they emitted the same glow.

The Changeling flung his left arm in Nyx’s direction. The blood markings hit her, searing her skin. Unlike Hera, Nyx could scream. The pain was unimaginable. Each line burned into her like thousands of hot pokers. As if she were being branded.

The second group of blood markings floated between the two women, then started to turn, until they lost their shape and formed a ball instead. The ball thinned to a line, then spread apart. In the center glowed a portal. The Changeling threw the two items, the eluvian piece and the amulet, into opposite sides. Then he released another vial of Archdemon blood, allowing it to swirl into the center of the portal. The portal expanded, filling the room with its power and aura.

The objects in the room started to fade into nonexistence. Hera was released at last from her paralysis, and emitted an ear shattering scream. Nyx was trying not to scream anymore, despite the pain. But she was weeping, eyes stinging with overflowing tears. This wasn’t what she wanted, was it? Was this what she had fought so hard for? What kind of magic was she using, was he releasing for her selfish needs?

No. _No._ Nyx could not turn back. It was impossible to, yes, but that wasn’t the only reason. Nyx knew she didn’t want to. She wanted this. She wanted Alistair. She wanted to see him again, watch him smile and laugh and love. Nyx would stay by his side forever. To do that, she had to return to the beginning. To Ostagar and the battle. To her Joining. She wanted Alistair.

A flare sprouted up in the center of the room, and the Changeling - for the first time - visibly reacted to this. The purple flame rose up, until a demon emerged. Nyx recognized it as a demon of desire, like ones she’d seen in the Circle Tower and within the Fade.

“Remove thyself, demon! You have no part in this!” the Changeling commanded.

“Such arrogance. Such raw power. You did not truly believe you could evade us forever?” the demon spoke. Her voice was silken, caressing them with every syllable. “You did not sense how strong her needs were, mage. It was she that brought me here. If you did not wish me to appear, you ought to have been more careful.”

The demon slid towards the Changeling, a sickening grin on her face. He tried to back away, but there was not much room to go.

“The girl has abandoned her morals, the only thing she felt she had of value left in life, just to get back to the moment before her biggest mistake. Just to hold the love of her life in her hands once more. This is familiar to you, is it not?” the demon taunted.

The Changeling’s hands shook as he grabbed his staff, raising it in front of him. The demon continued to speak, but Nyx could no longer hear what she said. What she could gather was that there was a promise, an exchange, and a deal being made. She knew this because she watched in horror as the man melded with the demon to become the most powerful and unimaginable abomination Nyx would ever see.

The energy around them shifted. Something in the magic was corrupt and wrong, more so than it had been before. The space warped uncontrollably. Then, Nyx felt as if she were swallowed by something fleshy and cold and squeezed tight.

She lost consciousness, and slid through the Fade in vivid dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have fulfilled the "Magical Bullshit" requirements of this fic. Next it's back to your regularly scheduled pain.


	4. Origins

Beneath Nyx was the most comfortable mattress she had ever slept on. Above she was covered in heavy blankets, as soft and warm as a kitten. It was all too tempting to return to sleep, despite the horrid nightmares that had passed through her mind just moments ago. But a woman was calling her name, shaking her body gently to rouse Nyx.

At last, she opened her eyes to see a room she knew, but couldn’t help to think that she shouldn’t know it. She placed a hand on her head, shutting her eyes tight and hoping to shut out the other woman’s voice. Nyx had to remember something. She wasn’t entirely sure who or what she was. There was one life, names and faces of elves, then tragedies and losses. A Blight, which should have been unheard of.

In her mind swam other memories, however. A mother and father, plus an older brother. A human family. She’d lived in this estate all her life. She was trained as a warrior, despite protests from her father. Her father called her “pup.” Her brother, Fergus, had a wife and child, while Nyx had avoided any and all suitors. There was someone out there for her, and she knew him already. But she hadn’t met him yet.

“Nyx, please get up. You need to be dressed. Arl Howe and his men have arrived and your father wants us all together to greet them,” the woman, Nyx’s mother Eleanor, said.

“I’m awake. I’m sorry. My head aches something awful,” Nyx said. She opened her eyes slowly, but the room was so bright she had to shield them. It was as if she were stepping out of a dark cave to face the midday sun.

“It’s alright, dear. Maybe find a bit of elfroot to chew. It should ease the pain. But please, hurry. I’d hate to keep our guests waiting much longer. We’ve also just got word that a Grey Warden is here. He’s hoping to find a recruit,” Eleanor said.

Nyx nodded, but the mention of a Grey Warden seemed to clear her head somewhat. Wasn’t she a Warden? Or she had been? But no one _stops_ being a Warden. That was impossible. But why did she remember the Joining and a man named Duncan?

Nyx dressed herself in her armor and grabbed a sword and shield. They felt wrong, for some reason, but it was how she’d trained, wasn’t it? Of course, she’d also trained in two-handed techniques, but the shield bore her family’s sigil, which made it important to present herself with it equipped. She pinched her cheeks to bring some color to her pale skin, then set out.

There was a name on the tip of her tongue she needed to remember. It was so hard to remember anything. It was as if there were two souls, two lives swimming in her head. For some reason, the life that was starting to feel like a fake was the one she was currently living. That couldn’t be right.

She stepped into the room and saw Howe and her father, standing together having a chat. They turned as soon as they’d noticed her presence, and her father beamed.

“Good to see you’re finally with us, pup,” Bryce Cousland cheered, wrapping his arms around Nyx in a bear hug. “How late were you up last night, girl?”

“Not too late,” Nyx said. She couldn’t recall. Last night felt like ages ago somehow. And she was still focused on trying to remember the name she’d forgotten.

“Ah, Lady Cousland, it has been a long time,” Howe said.

Despite having known this man since she was young, knowing him as a family friend, something about him suddenly disgusted Nyx to her very core. He seemed slimy and untrustworthy.

“You have grown into quite the beautiful woman,” Howe said, and Nyx barely contained her shudder. “Tell me, is your daughter still unwed?”

“Yes, it seems she doesn’t want to settle. She believes there is some perfect man out there. I tried to tell her there was no such thing, but she seems enamored with the idea of a knight or prince to take her away,” Bryce said through his laughter.

“Father!” Nyx said, now thoroughly embarrassed. “I am not a child.”

“And still you don’t see any man worth your time,” Bryce said.

“You’re starting to sound like mother,” Nyx said.

“I told you not to train her as a warrior. Now she probably wants to go off to war with the rest of us,” Howe said.

Nyx did not voice that she did want to leave. Not for glory or even the fight, but because she knew she had a purpose and it laid outside these walls. Her mind wandered back to the idea of becoming a Grey Warden. Her father would never approve, but perhaps she could seem important enough and be conscripted.

A few moments later, Bryce called the Warden that was visiting to join them. “I’d like to introduce my daughter, Nyx. Pup, this is Duncan, a Grey Warden. He’s here to observe Ser Gilmore to see if he is worth recruiting.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nyx said. Why was it the name Duncan sounded so familiar? Duncan was important. Duncan meant a lot to someone. It was that person whose name she couldn’t remember. He had been so hurt when Duncan died.

Wait. That couldn’t be right. Duncan was here, living and breathing and making friendly small talk with her father. Duncan had not died. _Not yet,_ came an intrusive thought. Nyx shooed it from her mind.

“What do you think of testing me, as well?” Nyx asked the Warden. It was where she needed to be, of that much she was certain.

“I am told you are a fine warrior with great strength, but I am not certain your father would approve,” Duncan said, glancing over to the Teryn.

“Certainly not. I already have Fergus marching our men into battle. I would not see my second child involved in this war as well,” Bryce said. “That reminds me, pup, I need you to deliver a message to your brother. He is to go with most of the men of Highever today. Howe’s men have not all arrived from Amaranthine just yet. I shall await the reinforcements here to make a second charge towards Ostagar.”

“And I am truly to be left out of the battle?” Nyx said.

“I told you hundreds of times, pup. I will not risk losing my whole family to this darkspawn menace. If it is truly a Blight, we will need you here to take charge. Were myself and Fergus unable to return, you would become Teyrn of Highever,” her father reminded her. She didn’t need the reminder. Though her memories were confused, this was something that remained clear. The role of Teyrn was better suited to Fergus. Nyx needed to be out in the world.

“I understand, father,” Nyx said. _But I still disagree._

“Now, go hurry to your brother. And make sure that dog of yours isn’t causing any trouble,” Bryce said.

She split off for a moment, but watched silently while Duncan moved away from the group, looking at a small leather-bound book he had on him. Nyx was so curious about this man whom she felt she already knew. She couldn’t simply leave.

“Ser Duncan?” Nyx said, walking tentatively towards him.

“Just Duncan, please,” he said. He emitted such a warmth. It reminded her a lot of her father. He just had that feeling that he would look after you. Nyx couldn’t explain it, really, but she felt comfortable speaking with him because of it.

“I was hoping to talk to you a bit, ask a few questions,” Nyx said. “Is that alright?”

“I have a little time, I suppose. But you have a task of your own. I don’t want to keep you from it too long. Your father would not be happy with me if I did,” Duncan said.

“Well, I was wondering a bit about that book you have?” Nyx said.

“This? It’s simply a list of locations I’ve been meaning to investigate before returning to Ostagar and joining the King’s forces. I need to find recruits for the Wardens to bolster our forces. We are still so few, and if this darkspawn invasion turns out to truly be a Blight, we will need all the Wardens possible to end it. I would fear for Ferelden’s safety if we failed,” Duncan said.

“Are Wardens truly necessary to end a Blight? Couldn’t anyone kill darkspawn?” Nyx asked. There was this thing itching in the back of her mind. She knew they were needed, but couldn’t quite recall why. She wished these new memories were clearer.

“Yes, but as Wardens we possess certain abilities that make it easier for us. We are also immune to the taint, which makes us useful against them.”

“And you have the Right of Conscription? So if you really did want me to join-”

“Lady Cousland, I understand your eagerness. But I promised your father I would not recruit you, no matter how capable you seem to be,” Duncan said, shutting Nyx down before she could even make her suggestion.

“But if you could…?” Nyx said, voice half a whisper.

“You are strong, I can tell. But I cannot, and will not. I’m sorry,” Duncan said.

She stared at the man for a long moment, but knew he would not relent. She almost had the name now. It was on the tip of her tongue. Nyx felt like Duncan knew it, but it would be strange to ask him. These memories were so hard to decipher, like they were encoded and she had to figure out the trick to solving them.

Nyx left Duncan and her father, heading towards her brother’s room. As she walked, she forced out memories of names and faces. Leliana with the red hair and Orlesian accent. Zevran from Antiva with tattoos and blonde hair. Morrigan, the witch with bright golden eyes and dark black hair. Wynne, an older woman. Oghren, a dwarf. Tamlen. Merrill. Shale. Flemeth. Al-

“Lady Cousland!” called Ser Gilmore, hurrying towards her. “Thank the Maker I found you. Nan is about to have a fit. Your mabari managed to lock himself in the lauder again. She’s afraid he’s eating up all the food in there. It’s a disaster.”

“Slow down, it’s alright. I’ll go see what Perseus is doing. He knows better than to simply raid the stores for food,” Nyx said, laughing at the image of her mabari tormenting Nan.

“I’m not so certain about that, but as long as you’re willing to help, then we should go,” Ser Gilmore said.

On the way to the kitchens, Nyx asked, “Is it true you might be recruited as a Grey Warden?”

“Oh, yeah, apparently your father said that I’m the best his men have to offer. I’m flattered but I’m not certain I’m right for the job,” Ser Gilmore admitted, face flushed. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’d be better suited, I think. You’re always saying how you feel like your place is elsewhere, outside of Highever. Don’t Wardens travel all over? You could see what’s out there.”

“My father has apparently forbidden Duncan from trying,” Nyx said. “He won’t even invoke the Right out of respect for my father.”

“You are his only daughter,” Ser Gilmore said.

“And Fergus is his only son, but I don’t see him being stopped from marching to war,” Nyx said.

Ser Gilmore argued no further. They’d reached the kitchens, anyway, and needed to take care of the scene exploding in there. Nan was shouting at the two elven servants.

Nyx felt an unusual amount of anger fill her at the sight. It was hardly their fault. She hated the idea of keeping elves as servants anyway. Sure they were paid, but she’d seen the Alienage. Nyx felt an unexplainable kinship with the elves. She was human and noble, to boot. Part of the memories from her other life were surfacing again. This time it wasn’t names, but just words. A language she shouldn’t know by any rights, but that she felt she ought to be using.

She calmed Nan down and apologized to the servants. The phrase “ir abelas” came to mind, but she didn’t say it. She wasn’t sure they’d understand it. After all, they’d lived in the city all their lives, and it was only the Dalish that held onto their culture. Keeper Marethari had explained when Nyx was young how those that came from the city were disconnected from their heritage. It pained her Keeper, Nyx had always been able to…

Wait. Nyx was thinking as if she were a Dalish elf! These memories or thoughts or whatever they were truly confusing. How did she know all these things about the Creators? How did she remember these Dalish elves like they were her family?

Had Ser Gilmore not laid a hand on her shoulder, urging her to get the dog like she’d promised Nan she would, Nyx would have been lost to her thoughts for hours. Nyx nodded at him, then opened the door to the lauder.

“Perseus!” she called, seeing her mabari sniffing the ground with fervor. “Come here boy!”

The hound bounded towards her, rising onto his hind legs and into Nyx’s open arms. She scratched behind his ears, just like he liked. He barked happily and fell back onto four legs, before bouncing around with excitement, circling around himself. Nyx had been so happy the day the mabari pup had bonded to her. The name Perseus was on her mind immediately, like it was meant to be his.

Apparently, there were giant rats in the lauder, which was why Perseus had gone there. He was just doing his job, guarding and protecting the Cousland family in every way possible. Nyx praised him for his good work, and informed Nan of the trouble they’d had exterminating the vermin. Nan seemed vaguely appreciative which was the best she could ask of her.

It didn’t last long though, as within moments she was right back to barking orders at the elves in her kitchen. Nyx grimaced. She would be sure to talk to Nan later about treating the servants of the house better. Maybe Nyx could also talk to her father about increasing their pay, since he was to stay behind until the next day.

Ser Gilmore left her side, but Perseus followed her as she made her way to speak with her brother. Nyx ran into her mother on the way, who went through the usual speech about settling down and having a family. The name Nyx had yet to fully remember (Al-something was as far as she’d gotten) was scratching at her brain again. She tried to tell her mother that she was just looking for the right person, but again it came off sounding like she was just too picky. She apologized to the son of her mother’s friend, whom they had tried to set her up with many times.

Nyx hurried ahead to see Fergus before her mother could hound her any further. At least he had found happiness with his wife, Oriana, and their son Oren. He was a sweet boy, only recently turned six. He still had trouble with the word “sword,” which Nyx found quite adorable. But she didn’t mention it or correct him too often, because she knew he was at the age where such a thing was already embarrassing.

Fergus didn’t seem worried in the least about heading off to Ostagar. He was proud, but Nyx also wondered if it wasn’t just a front to ease the worries his wife might have.

“I wish you were going to be with us, sister,” he said. “I think you’d fell a hundred darkspawn before I could even lift my sword.”

“Hardly,” Nyx said. “Maybe fifty.”

Fergus laughed. “See? We need you. If only father could see that you are capable enough.”

“I do see that,” Bryce said, appearing at the door. Eleanor was beside him. “But I need you here, Nyx. Someone has to look after your mother.”

“I can look after myself, you know,” Eleanor insisted. “I am not some wilting old rose that needs taking care of.”

Fergus held his wife and son tight one last time before he had to say goodbye. Oriana was unable to stop herself from crying, even though she wanted to appear strong in front of her son. Oren was still too young to fully understand where his father was going, but he’d been told Fergus was going to beat up bad men, so he cheered for his father to “fight good.”

Nyx was left to her own devices after that. She decided to wander the grounds a bit, checking in with the guard - a couple of whom she caught playing cards, though she promised not to tell - and with her old teacher. Perseus stayed at her side the whole time while she spoke with them.

The whole time Nyx went through Highever Castle, she tried to go over the things she was remembering. She couldn’t help but feel like she’d been asleep her whole life until just this morning, when this second life was starting to assert itself in her mind. She was starting to find more vivid pieces, just moments or instances, but it was enough that she could piece something together.

Her other self had been a Dalish elf and a Grey Warden. Though she remembered things like they were in the past, everything she remembered was actually in the future. Something, it was hard to remember what, went wrong at Ostagar. She and the other surviving Warden - he was the name she wanted to remember - had to travel with a group of allies to gather an army of elves, dwarves, and mages. They traveled all over Ferelden seeking aid.

Orzammar was locked in a political struggle. The Circle fell to blood mages. The Dalish clan they met struggled with a werewolf curse. And Arl Eamon of Redcliffe was poisoned, while the rest of his town fell victim to dark magic that raised the dead. In between all the chaos, Nyx made friends with the people she traveled with. With the other Warden, however, there had been something more.

She had memories that made her blush, of entering this man’s tent night after night. They would strip off their armor quick as they could, kissing each other hungrily. Nyx could almost feel this man inside her, and was suddenly very thankful that she seemed to be alone. Now she wished more than ever that she could remember the name of the other Warden.

Needing to get her mind off of anything sexual, Nyx went to watch Ser Gilmore train. Duncan was there as well, though this was just the start of his observation. Now she knew why she’d had that intrusive thought earlier. Duncan had died at Ostagar in her other life. Perhaps these weren’t memories, but premonitions? But that didn’t seem right. Nyx knew they were memories, even if it didn’t make sense to call them that.

“Duncan?” Nyx said, hoping he wouldn’t mind her distraction. “You said there were very few Gray Wardens left in Ferelden. Why is that?”

“Well, Lady Cousland, it wasn’t until King Maric that we were allowed back into Denerim. There had been a rebellion some years back, which caused the banishment of our order. But Maric understood the need to fight the darkspawn threat, and saw that we were allowed to return and gather our numbers once more,” Duncan told her.

“And you’ve recruited a lot yourself?” Nyx asked. Maybe he’d say the name of the other Warden. Maybe just hearing him talk would bring back more memories.

“Not so many, actually,” Duncan said. “Our importance has been largely forgotten since the last Blight ended. It was hundreds of years ago, back in the Exalted Age. No one alive now saw what the darkspawn could do when assembled as one force. Few have volunteered to join the Grey Wardens, and until the Right of Conscription was put into use, there was nothing we could do if a potential recruit did not wish to join us.”

“Are there any recruits of note?” Nyx said. How else was she supposed to get information out of him? Tell him she had memories of another life she didn’t understand?

“I… My lady, all Wardens possess great strengths and skills specific to their style of combat. No Warden is above another, save perhaps for a region’s commander. Even then, the best commander treats their allies as equals,” Duncan said.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend,” Nyx said.

“And you didn’t. Of course, there are Wardens who have been inducted longer, who thus have more experience with darkspawn. But this does not make senior members any better than the newest recruits,” Duncan clarified.

Nyx nodded, trying not to appear dissatisfied. It seemed she would have to rely on her own memories for the name to come to her. She stood, deciding to distract Duncan no longer. Ser Gilmore deserved time for Duncan to see him in action.

“Thank you for entertaining my curiosity. I won’t take any more of your time,” Nyx said, preparing to leave.

“Not to worry, I am able to both observe and talk,” Duncan said, giving another warm smile. “I am sorry I cannot offer you a chance to become a Warden as well. Ser Gilmore did speak highly of your abilities.”

“Are you certain you couldn’t convince my father?” Nyx said.

“Even if I could, I’d dare not try. You are precious to him. It is understandable that he would keep you out of harm’s reach,” Duncan said.

“Do you have any children of your own?” Nyx asked. She knew she was supposed to be going, but curiosity was getting the better of her.

“No. There are few Wardens who ever do have children. The Grey Wardens themselves become your family, in a sense.” He was staring down at Ser Gilmore, following the motion of his sword with his eyes.

“I see,” Nyx muttered. She couldn’t ask him directly for what she wanted, and all her attempts to work around it had failed. She thanked him quietly then ducked out of the room. The sun was slipping from the sky, leaving the white of clouds against an orange hue. There wasn’t much day left, for which Nyx was grateful. Perhaps, when the next morning came, she would be able to make more sense of the patches of memories that came through.

Not that she wasn’t already trying to do just that. Nyx took her meal in her room. The quiet gave her time to think and focus. She wanted to draw out the earliest memories first, giving them a sort of order in her mind. Still, they returned in random splatters of images and sounds, feelings and tastes. Nyx clutched her head. There were so many things coming back to her all at once, it was hard to make sense of it.

_Go over everything you know already,_ Nyx told herself. In the memories she was Dalish, with a best friend named Tamlen. The day things went wrong, they ran into humans in the forest. Then, they went to some hidden ruins underground. It was unclear what happened there. Tamlen touched a mirror, then there were pieces missing. Next thing she knew, she was with Duncan, walking into Ostagar. She met the King. Then…

Then she met Alistair.

Nyx inhaled sharply. That was the name! That was _his_ name! She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that, of all things. She said it over and over in her head, refusing to forget it again.

With that mystery out of her head, finally the question she should have been asking the whole time occurred to her. If Nyx had been so happy in her other life, what was she doing here as a human? And how? Surely that was a memory of hers, too.

Nyx fell backwards onto her bed, shutting her eyes tight to think. Unbelievable tales of her previous life filled her mind. They were coming quicker now that she summoned them up. Remembering Alistair was like opening a floodgate to everything else. It was coming almost too quickly, but the faster it came, the more familiar it felt. This _was_ her life. These memories were not of some other version of herself, they were Nyx’s true memories. Her human life was a lie.

Finally, she watched Alistair die. It was like she was living it again, cutting the wound into her heart like it was fresh. But now she knew this was a wound she’d carried for months.

Nyx sat up quickly. The pain wrenched in her gut. The suddenness of the agony was unbearable. She was sobbing. She drew her knees in. Her face contorted into ugly shapes as she wept. She felt her nose starting to run and her eyes starting to sting after a while, but still she cried. The other Nyx had time to grieve, time to process this loss, but in her human body, she was going through those months without him in seconds.

Next, she saw herself traveling with Zevran, who only left her side in the end. She’d met Ariane and Finn, found Morrigan, then found him. The Changeling. That name sent chills through her. Yes, she’d searched for him, to redo everything. She’d just wanted to go back in time at first, to save Alistair’s life, but he offered her a chance to be human and noble. A woman fit to marry the King of Ferelden.

“Hera,” Nyx whispered to herself. That was the woman whose place she’d taken. Who was most likely dead after the ritual. Or worse, pushed into nonexistence. Nyx had killed people before, it was true, but those were on the terms of war and survival. Hera’s death was a cruelty. She could not excuse herself from that sin. She’d lead the woman to her death, and it was not a swift death either. The Changeling had tortured her to create the magic that sent Nyx back. Then, his spell went wrong.

That was where it stopped. Nyx remembered the mage became an abomination, then she woke up a human. There were slight gaps here and there, but Nyx felt exhaustion overcoming her. She’d demand to go with Duncan the next day, she decided. Perhaps Nyx could even save Duncan, this time. How much could she change to ensure lives were saved? She could do what she couldn’t before. Nyx could protect people like she’d wanted to.

Nyx fell asleep with optimistic thoughts. Something about being in this new body, this new life, it made everything seem more hopeful. It went beyond just knowing how to make sure lives were saved. Nyx simply felt less broken.

♢♢♢♢♢

The was a crash outside before Nyx jolted up straight. Perseus snorted as he roused from sleep beside her. Sometime in the night he’d crawled up beside her to snuggle. Only now did she know he wasn’t the same dog she’d first given that name.

But that wasn’t important right now. Dammit, of all the times for crisis, she had to still be out of it. She got up quick, moving towards the door, when it flung open.

“There’s another in here!” the soldier called. One of Howe’s men, fully armed and dressed for battle.

“What’s going on?” Nyx asked. She searched her mind. Hera had said something about this. _No._

Of all the warnings Nyx had failed to remember, it had to be this. By this time, at least half the household had to be dead or dying, slain on Howe’s orders. The bastard betrayed the Cousland family in every lifetime.

Still barely awake and dizzy from the next onslaught of memories, Nyx summoned up all the energy she had and rushed at the soldier, toppling him over. She brought her heel down on his throat and felt bones snap beneath her foot. Nyx cringed. The soldier gasped for air. She had broken his windpipe.

Another man tried to hit Nyx, swinging his sword at her wildly. For all his training, he had terrible form, announcing each swing very visibly. Howe must have thought he didn’t need his best men to kill sleeping targets.

She sidestepped a thrust, then kicked him back towards the wall. The man stumbled, then dropped his sword. Terrible grip, too. Good. The odds were in her favor as she picked up the blade and ran him through. Nyx left him pinned to the wall.

The story Hera had told was clear now. Nyx knew exactly what to do, but she had to be certain of one thing before she left. She took the weapon the soldier had been carrying before - a greatsword that required both of her hands to wield - and bolted across the hall. The door was already open, but still Nyx had to see.

Oriana’s body was already growing cold. Oren, little Oren who could never quite say “sword,” was sprawled on top of his mother’s body, like he’d been trying to help her. Nyx covered her mouth so she didn’t scream at the sight. Even if the memories of her human life were false, they still felt almost as real as those she’d just gotten back. Oren was her nephew and Oriana was her sister by marriage. They were her family and they’d been murdered in cold blood.

Perseus, who Nyx only just noticed at her side, nudged her hand. She patted him gently. Nyx knew he could sense her grief. It was a comfort to have him there, but nothing would change what had already happened.

Nyx tore towards the room on the far end of the hall. She could almost feel Hera, running with Nyx to find her mother. Nyx didn’t have time for the existential crisis that came at that thought. Whoever’s mother Eleanor Cousland was, Nyx prayed to the Maker that she still lived. Or maybe she should be praying to the Creators?

With the door open, Nyx saw that Eleanor stood proud, already in her armor with a sword and dagger at the ready. At least now there was an answer for the dead bodies in the hall that Nyx wasn’t responsible for.

“Nyx!” Eleanor gasped. She placed her weapons on her back, and ran to hug Nyx. “I was just about to see if you were alright, but with the men out there, I didn’t want to take any chances. I’m so glad you’re alright. Did you look to see-?”

“They’re dead, mother,” Nyx said, holding back a sob. Perseus whimpered behind her.

“Oh, Maker… If Howe has his men killing unarmed women and children, he must be serious about this. He won’t allow anyone to leave Highever alive. We have to get out, and fast. Get dressed and get a proper sword. One of your father’s,” Eleanor said, her eyes stared out towards the exit. “I have a feeling we’ll be fighting our way through. They intend to kill us, but we will not let them, understand? You cut down anyone in your path. We have to get to the servants’ entrance. Howe’s men won’t know where it is, so it should be unguarded. But before that, we are finding your father.”

Nyx nodded. She felt so hollow, moving like she was supposed to, fully aware there was no hope. Hera and Duncan were the only two who made it out that night. If only Nyx had remembered sooner, that could have changed.

Sure enough, they found Bryce Cousland lying injured, his blood coloring the floor. Duncan was beside him. They’d been speaking in hushed tones before the women arrived. Now, all was silent.

“Darling,” Eleanor said, falling to her knees beside him. “What happened to you?”

“We were trying to make it to you, love,” Bryce said. “I had to be certain that you and the others were safe.”

“Bryce, they killed Oriana and Oren. A child!” Eleanor said.

“Howe...that bastard,” Bryce growled. “We can’t mourn just yet. Duncan, take my wife and daughter out the servants’ entrance.”

“You are not staying behind,” Eleanor said.

“I have to. I can’t move, can’t even stand. I would slow you down too much, and we’d all die.”

“I am not leaving you!”

“My Lady Cousland,” Duncan said, “your husband is right. We’ve not much time before the rest of the soldiers find us.”

“You don’t need to tell me what I already know,” Eleanor spat. “I will not leave his side. I can fight them, keep them distracted and buy you and Nyx more time to run.”

Nyx was silent. She had failed to alter time. Even with knowledge of the future, the warnings came too late. Nyx should have warned them. But she couldn’t have.

“I understand,” Duncan said slowly. He turned his gaze upon Nyx, who met his eyes. Duncan looked back to Bryce and said, “If I am to take her with me, I must have your permission to recruit your daughter.”

“This is hardly the time to discuss this,” Eleanor said with a glare.

“It’s the only time, love,” Bryce said. He took her hand.

“We have already lost Ser Gilmore, and I must return to Ostagar with a recruit. Your daughter expressed an interest in the Grey Wardens, and she has displayed the skill and drive necessary to join tonight,” Duncan said.

“I’m in no position to argue, Duncan,” Bryce said through a half-hearted chuckle. “Just be sure to take care of her.”

“I swear to you that I will,” Duncan said, bowing his head.

Nyx did not argue. She simply knelt in front of her parents, holding them both close. It was like she’d both known them her whole life and only met them today simultaneously. It was odd to love them as much as she did, yet perfectly normal as well. Regardless of who they were in relation to Nyx, Bryce and Eleanor were good people who did not deserve this fate.

“I love you,” Nyx said. For all she had cried before, the tears wouldn’t even come to her now. She just felt cold.

“We love you too, pup,” Bryce said. “Be brave for us.”

“You have to go. Just know that we’ll see you again, someday. At the Maker’s side,” Eleanor said.

“I know,” Nyx said. But she didn’t. She wasn’t certain that she believed in _any_ god anymore. This lie was a comfort, nothing more, nothing less.

Nyx moved herself before she could tempt herself into staying a moment longer for a goodbye. Long farewells was not something they could afford, under the circumstances. Nyx knew now why Hera had looked the way she did. _I had meant to sink my own dagger into that bastard’s cold heart._

It was unclear who was leading who through the tunnel leading out. It deposited the two far from the castle. Nyx glanced back to see if anyone had noticed their absence, but it seemed none of Howe’s men were leaving the grounds. Only Perseus was at their heel. She and Duncan would be able to get a great head start before anyone knew.

When they were far enough away, Duncan had them set up camp. It was crude, given the lack of supplies from the rushed escape, but it was enough. Nyx needed to rest, as did Duncan, though he would remain awake to keep watch over her as she slept.

“Where will we go, when we leave again?” Nyx asked.

“We’re going to make our way straight to Ostagar. I had planned to look for more recruits, but with the news of Howe’s betrayal, I’d rather not delay your arrival. First, we will need to stop by a town for food and supplies. But that can wait until morning. Try to get some rest,” Duncan said. If his voice didn’t say enough for the pity he felt, his eyes certainly did.

Nyx did not want to see Duncan’s pity. She did not want anything but blame for what had happened. Nyx should have remembered Hera’s story. She should have prevented it.

Given the day, Tamlen might have already touched the mirror, too. Which would mean he was somewhere out there, kept alive as a ghoul, a puppet for the darkspawn to use. Nyx felt sick at the thought of seeing him again, having to kill him. How could she sleep with all this in her head? Still, Perseus curled up beside her. She could at least try to close her eyes.


	5. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx returns to Ostagar to see a number of familiar faces.

Nyx wasn’t sure if she slept. It didn’t feel like she had, but time had passed quicker than it would have if she’d stayed up staring straight ahead, so surely she’d at least nodded off once or twice. She did remember rolling over once to see Duncan writing in his little leather-bound book. Nyx wanted to ask what he was writing, but in order to pretend she was sleeping peacefully, she closed her eyes again and stayed silent.

The nearest town wasn’t terribly well supplied, but Nyx and Duncan bought what they could from the local salesmen. When word spread that the two were Grey Wardens, one family even offered a bit of food for their journey. Nyx wanted to reject the offer, seeing that the people needed it, but Duncan accepted it, in trade for a bit of coin. More than any of them knew the amount of food was worth.

“That was very kind of you,” Nyx said, hoping she came off as appreciative rather than surprised.

“It was the least I could do for them,” Duncan said.

Nyx knew he was a wonderful man, but when she’d last traveled with him, her mind had been occupied with Tamlen’s fate and her own failing health. This time, there were still a lot of things to occupy her thoughts, but she was more focused on Duncan. She might have failed to save the Cousland family - her family - and Tamlen, but she might be able to save Duncan.

Nyx thought about trying to keep Cailan from the fight as well, but there was no way she could convince him not to fight. Nyx wished Alistair could have known Cailan as his brother, because charging into battle was something both of the Theirin men would do. Besides, Cailan was the reigning King of Ferelden and was not about to take advice from a Dalish elf.

Nyx stopped, and corrected herself. He would not take orders from a Grey Warden, even if they _were_ human and nobility. Cailan respected the order, but wouldn’t allow a Warden to tell him what to do. Of that she was certain.

During their travels, Nyx tried to think of ways to convince Duncan that she (and Alistair) would need Duncan’s guidance in her first battle with darkspawn. She knew she’d be facing some of them in the Kocari Wilds, but Nyx was not supposed to be aware of the test before her Joining yet. She was _definitely_ not supposed to know that Teryn Loghain would betray the King, leaving anyone on the front lines for dead. Even if Nyx and Alistair were beside Duncan in battle, the chances of them all managing to escape and survive were slim at best.

Not to mention, that would be desertion. Duncan was not the sort of man to turn his tail and flee, even if it meant his life. Nyx knew the same could be said of Alistair.

No, her best chance of keeping Duncan alive was keeping him at her side, at the Tower of Ishal. Surely Flemeth would see his importance, as senior Grey Warden, and rescue him, as well.

That was another thought. What would Flemeth make of Nyx now? Morrigan had warned of the old woman’s deceptiveness and power. Before, Nyx had no reason to fear the woman. Flemeth had healed her and Alistair, saved them from certain death, and offered her own daughter as aid. At the time, she’d seemed mysterious and a bit batty, but not dangerous. Nyx knew better, now.

Duncan and Nyx still hardly spoke during their journey. Each time either of them tried to strike a conversation, it ended awkwardly in silence. The general mood never made for good, casual small talk. Duncan didn’t ask about Nyx’s family, because she probably wouldn’t want to talk about it. Nyx didn’t ask Duncan about Grey Warden things, in case she accidentally let it slip that she knew more than she was supposed to. When they spotted Ostagar on the horizon, Nyx felt a wash of relief.

Cailan was just as Nyx remembered him. He radiated joy and left her feeling encouraged, despite the obvious idealism. He was blinded by his optimism and trust in the Wardens. No, she knew there was no way she’d convince him to leave the field. At least he showed pity for the plight of the Couslands, and promised to see justice served when he returned to Denerim.

“He has no idea the threat he faces,” Nyx said. She thought it had been too quiet for Duncan to hear, but apparently she’d still caught his attention.

“Perhaps not. I urged him to wait for reinforcements from the Orlesian Wardens, but he believes in our legend more than anyone else. Still, he is our King, and he is not alone. Teryn Loghain is experienced in the ways of war, and serves as the King’s advisor,” Duncan explained.

“Are you certain you trust Loghain?” Nyx said.

Duncan raised a brow. “Loghain’s daughter is the queen, and he fought to save Ferelden once before. I do not doubt that he will do whatever he sees necessary to defeat this darkspawn threat.”

“But do you _trust_ him?” Nyx asked.

“Nyx, I understand that you are wary. After your own family was betrayed… What I mean to say is, Loghain is our superior, as is Cailan, and we are to follow their orders as we are given them. That requires trust in their decisions,” Duncan advised.

Nyx lowered her head, staring at the ground. Loghain was dishonorable and unworthy of trust, but she had no way of proving that.

“I will do my best,” Nyx said.

Duncan felt comfortable leaving her to her own devices after that, pointing out where some key areas of the camp were. He advised Nyx to visit the smith, meet with the other recruits, and prepare herself. Finally, he tasked her with finding Alistair.

It was hard to hide the reaction she had to hearing his name, knowing he was here, safe and breathing. Nyx had refused to go to his funeral, she remembered, because she couldn’t bear to see the change death brought to his face, which was once so full of life. Now she would see Alistair smile again. Even hear him laugh.

Nyx could hardly wait. After all, she knew exactly where to go to find him. Though, at the same time, she was nervous. This Alistair would have no memory of her, wouldn’t have gone through the changes that came with their journey. Nyx was reintroducing herself to the man she loved, and she found her words abandoning her. Perhaps, a bit of distraction was a good start.

Perseus trotted ahead, going to rest by the campfire with Duncan. After the long journey, her mabari both needed and deserved some time to relax. Nyx stopped for just a moment to rub his belly.

Nyx marched up to Loghain’s tent first, trying to convince the guard to allow her a word with the man. She doubted she could talk him out of his betrayal, but perhaps something could still be done. Maybe Loghain could command Cailan out of the fight? Or Duncan?

When Teryn Loghain stepped out of the tent, she reacted first to how tall he was. Nyx wasn’t quite as short as she’d been before, as humans were generally blessed with more height. Still, in comparison, Loghain towered over her. His face bore a scowl that revealed every wrinkle that came with his age.

“Yes, what is it?” he said, a tired edge to his voice. “Oh, you’re Duncan’s new Grey Warden, I assume.”

“I am,” Nyx said.

“Cailan’s fascination with the Wardens goes beyond the ordinary. Are you aware his father brought your order back to Ferelden?” Loghain said. “Maric respected the Wardens. They have an honored place in the hearts of our people. But Maric would have understood it takes more than legends to win a battle. That’s not an argument I’ll repeat here.”

His cool blue eyes studied her. “You look familiar,” he said. “Have I seen you at the Landsmeet?”

“My...father was teyrn of Highever,” Nyx said. Her throat choked as she spoke, the last image of Bryce Cousland lying on the ground wounded seared into her mind. It was uncertain whether it was harder to say he had been her father, or if it was harder to use the past tense in regards to his title.

“The king told me of his promise. I am certain he has every intention of following it through,” Loghain said.

Nyx’s jaw tightened. Cailan would help, were he given the chance. That was just the sort of man he was. But knowing that Howe and Loghain would work together, she couldn’t put it past him to have known about the death of the Couslands already. He didn’t even pause to offer condolences.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be riding into the thick of battle with the rest of your fellows, will you?” Loghain asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Nyx lied. “Duncan hasn’t told me.”

“Well, if Cailain has his way you will,” he said. “Now I must return to my task. Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you’re the praying sort.”

“Will he be on the front lines?” Nyx said.

“Such is his plan. Which means that yes, he will be. Cailan is not the sort to change his mind, even when it is in his best interest,” Loghain said.

“Then I will pray, indeed, that our king is delivered safely from battle,” Nyx said. There was a slight challenge in the way she glared, but if Loghain noticed, he said nothing of it as he left.

This was an intricate game of plans from various angles, and Nyx still wasn’t sure she could work it to the best outcome. Could she even guarantee Alistair’s life, with all that she knew? They would have to defeat the darkspawn again, plus the ogre at the top of the tower. She wasn’t certain she could manage that again.

Plus, they still needed Flemeth to rescue them.

Unpleasant thoughts drifted away as she spotted the familiar face of a woman standing by the mages’ tents. Nyx couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Wynne, who had been the grandmother figure in their very odd family. She wanted to hurry up to her, but tried to maintain a more leisurely pace.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment to talk?” Nyx asked. She mentally went through proper manners and posture and anything else that Wynne would sometimes give small lectures on.

“I suppose I do,” Wynne said. “What can I do for you?”

“I...I suppose I just wanted to know who you are. I’ve only met a couple of mages before, who visited to perform healing magic when medicines were not enough,” Nyx said.

“My name is Wynne. I am a mage of the Circle, here to offer aid in the coming battle against the darkspawn. As is everyone here,” Wynne said. “Might I ask who you are?”

“I’m Nyx, a Grey Warden. Or, I will be,” she said.

“You’re Duncan’s recruit then? He seemed proud of you,” Wynne said.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Nyx said, voice wavering. “I wasn’t sure with everything that was going on.”

This Wynne was just like her other self. It was almost reflex to want to fall into her arms crying and telling her everything that went wrong. Nyx wanted to ask for her advice and her opinion. Even if Wynne had the tendency to nag, her guidance always made things feel just a little bit safer. For being just a couple feet away, Wynne felt impossible to reach.

“Perhaps I should go,” Nyx said quickly. “You must have important things to get to.”

“I certainly do, but I’m glad I got the chance to meet you. Something gives me the feeling you will do great things, young Warden,” Wynne said.

Nyx turned quickly before she broke. This was so much harder than she’d imagined. Thinking back, she remembered that last desperate dash to get Hera to the Changeling. She’d pictured everything just falling into place. Now the complications reared their ugly heads and she couldn’t escape them.

In her haste, Nyx forgot to pay attention to what was in front of her. She smacked right into someone, backing away while apologizing profusely. Her eyes caught the smug grin of Daveth. Nyx had nearly forgotten about the two who hadn’t made it. That was two more lives she knew would be lost by the next time the sun rose.

“Well, hello there,” Daveth said. “What is a beauty like yourself doing here?”

“I’m a Grey Warden recruit,” Nyx said, brushing hair from her face. She was making it look messier than usual, but she felt the need to do something with her hands.

“Duncan mentioned you. Though he neglected to tell me that the recruit was a lovely woman,” Daveth said. “I wasn’t even really aware there were women in the Wardens. None that I’ve seen, anyway.”

“Yes, well, I promise you we are just as skilled. If not more,” Nyx said.

“I don’t doubt it. Say, do you have any clue what’s involved in this Joining ritual? The whole thing has been very secretive, and I’m not really a fan of mystery,” Daveth said, using the quiet of his voice as an excuse to slide closer to her.

“No clue. Like you said. Secret,” Nyx said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Daveth didn’t seem suspicious of her, at least. “I suppose we’ll just find out then,” he said.

“You sure you want to do this?” Nyx asked. Maybe he could desert. Live. All she wanted was to give people a chance.

“Having doubts?” he asked. Daveth thought she was projecting! Great.

“No, I know I’m in the right place. But are you? This could be dangerous for you,” Nyx said.

“I’m touched that you’re concerned for my safety, but I can handle myself. I’ve gotten in some trouble in the past. This is my chance to do better,” Daveth said.

“If you’re certain,” Nyx murmured.

“Maker, you’re starting to sound like the little knight,” Daveth sighed. “Perhaps I could help to...put you at ease.”

“I’ll pass, thank you,” Nyx said, sliding away. “I’ve got more things to take care of.”

“Maybe later, then,” Daveth said. He walked in the opposite direction, towards Duncan.

Nyx remembered the starving prisoner, and was able to convince the guard to feed him his leftover lunch. That was a life that was forfeit for sure, but at least he could die with something in his stomach besides fear. She spotted Ser Jory, but this time she wanted a game plan before speaking with him. He had to be brave. If he wasn’t brave, and didn’t try the Joining like he was supposed to, Duncan would have to kill him. Nyx wasn’t sure she could stand to watch that again.

“Excuse me, Ser Jory, was it?” she said, gently touching his shoulder.

“Yes, that’s me. Is there something you needed?” Jory asked.

“My name is Nyx. I just recently got here with Duncan,” she said.

“So you’re the recruit. Good to meet you,” he said.

“You as well. I wanted to ask what you’d heard about the Joining?”

“That it’s a big secret, and that’s about it. I’m certain it’s just some sort of test, but I don’t know about all this. I thought we’d been tested enough already to even be considered for the Wardens.”

“My theory is that it gives you special power. Something that makes it easier to face the darkspawn.”

“That would be nice,” Jory said, but he sounded doubtful. “I just keep trying to think of why I’m doing this. I’ve got a beautiful wife back home, a baby on the way. I want that little boy or girl to grow up in a safe world, free of terrors like the darkspawn.”

“That is a noble wish,” Nyx encouraged him. “Remember that. It will give you the strength to face anything.”

“Huh, not so sure about that, but thank you. Have you seen darkspawn before?”

“Yes.” _Many times. Too many._

“Oh, then you’re probably prepared for what we’ll face.” Jory was wringing his hands. A bit of nervous sweat had even started to dot his forehead.

“They die like any other creature, Ser Jory,” Nyx said. He could not be afraid. He had to find his bravery.

“That’s what I keep hearing, but...they aren’t like any other creature, are they?” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to trouble you with my own worries. I’ll just be going. Back to Duncan’s camp.”

“Alright,” Nyx said. There was still time to work with him. With both of the recruits, perhaps.

There was no more delaying. Nyx had to do this. She went back past the smith, then up the path to where she knew she’d find Alistair, in the middle of an argument with a mage. Nyx arrived just in time for the mage to storm off, muttering obscenities under his breath. She hardly noticed him.

“You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings everyone together,” Alistair said.

Nyx stared. Nyx didn’t want to stare, because it seemed creepy to do so, but she still froze for a moment anyway. Somehow she’d forgotten that those were the first words he ever said to her. Now she never wanted to forget. Of course Alistair introduced himself with a joke.

“It really is something, isn’t it,” Nyx said with a smile.

“We could stand in a circle and hold hands. Really give the darkspawn something to think about. Sorry, we haven’t met yet, have we?” Alistair said.

Nyx’s smile faltered, feeling the sharp twist in her gut.

“You’re not another mage, are you?” Alistair asked.

“No, I’m not. Duncan sent me to meet you, actually. It’s Alistair, right?” Nyx said. She’d never thought of herself as much of an actress, but she was doing plenty of pretending lately. The role of “person who has definitely never met you and is certainly not already deeply in love with you” was particularly challenging.

Nyx wished she could reach out and hold him. She would kiss him, even, if she could, but this was the first time Alistair was meeting her. As far as he knew, it was Nyx’s first time meeting him, as well. A kiss on the cheek to greet someone might be alright in Orlais, but this was Ferelden. The only ones Fereldans kissed were their lovers and their dogs.

“And that makes you the new recruit from Highever,” Alistair said. “Sorry, I should have recognized you. Duncan’s description was accurate as usual.”

“Not to worry. You haven’t offended me,” Nyx said. Hard as this was, she was still able to smile. Being near him just put her at ease. His eyes were so bright, his cheeks flushed from the typical Fereldan cold, and every bit of him was full of life. Nyx would never allow Alistair to come to harm again.

“Good,” Alistair said. “As the junior member of the order, I will be accompanying you while you prepare for the Joining.”

“Pleasure to meet you, then. My name is Nyx,” she said. Nyx wanted to hear her name, spoken by his voice. It had been too long.

“Right, that was the name. I will try my best not to forget it again. Can’t imagine killing darkspawn together and calling you nothing but ‘hey you,’” he said. “Say, it just occurred to me there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why?”

“Most women I’ve met aren’t trained to use swords,” Nyx said.

“Hah! I suppose they aren’t,” Alistair said. “So, I’m curious, have you ever actually encountered darkspawn?”

Nyx had already told Ser Jory she had, but now she was realizing that someone might tell Duncan that. As far as he knew, she’d grown up nice and safe in Highever. That was Nyx Cousland, however. Nyx Mahariel had seen every sort of darkspawn she knew existed. Including a Broodmother and the Archdemon. She tried to find something in between that balanced both her lives.

“Just once,” she said. “Have you?”

“Yes. I wasn’t prepared for how monstrous it was. How did you handle it?” Alistair asked.

“They were awful, but not invulnerable. I managed,” Nyx said.

“Can’t say I’m looking forward to seeing any more of them,” Alistair admitted. “We should get back to Duncan. He’ll be waiting with the others. Did you get a chance to meet them?”

“I did. Both of them were asking about the Joining,” Nyx said.

“The big secret of the day,” Alistair said. “Sorry, I couldn’t tell you about it even if I wanted to.”

“It’s alright. I wasn’t asking. Whatever it is, I know I can handle it,” Nyx said. She’d already done it once before, after all. There was something of a wonder, about whether it mattered that she was in a new body, but she remained confident. She was supposed to become a Warden. Nyx didn’t believe in destiny, but this she knew.

Alistair walked beside her back to Duncan, Daveth, Jory, and Perseus, who was only just waking up from his nap. He barked cheerfully and ran to greet Nyx. She ruffled his ears and scratched his head just the way he liked.

“You didn’t mention you had a mabari,” Alistair said.

“I thought he might want to introduce himself. Perseus, this is Alistair. Alistair, meet Perseus,” Nyx said. The dog all but leaped at Alistair, who was not prepared for that level of enthusiasm.

Still, Alistair was laughing and petting Perseus in an attempt to calm him down. “He’s very friendly for a wardog,” Alistair commented.

“Only if he likes you,” Nyx said. She called her mabari back to her, and he sat next to where she stood. “And my dog has good taste.”

Maker, it was hard not to flirt. It was hard not to anything around Alistair. Being near him was making all this worth the effort. She could forget the horrors of the Changeling, the threat of the Blight, even the immediate danger that faced them in the Wilds. Nyx felt safer just for having him there.

Duncan gave the group their instructions, the same as Nyx remembered. She didn’t bother to ask questions this time. She knew exactly where she needed to go. Nyx would be seeing Morrigan again for the first time since the eluvian. For a long time, it had been hard to get the vague words of warning off Nyx’s mind. “Change was coming to the world,” in part due to Flemeth and her true nature. Nyx had changes of her own planned, but she was certain the things she was attempting to do were of a wholly different nature than the things Morrigan anticipated.

They made it through the Kocari Wilds, collecting the darkspawn blood they needed and clearing the way to the mark on their map where the Grey Warden cache was located. Nyx already knew it would be broken into pieces and emptied. For all Morrigan warned of Flemeth’s danger, she had at least done the Wardens many favors. Even someone powerful as her knew that a Blight plaguing the land allowed advancement for no one.

Nyx was certain to pick one of the flowers growing in the wilds to bring back to camp. She knew that there was a sick mabari waiting there. In her last life, that had been the dog she had called Perseus, her best friend and loyal ally. Now he would not bond to her. She had never heard of there being two mabari to bond to one master, and Nyx had already brought the dog her human self had grown up with in Highever. She worried that, without someone to follow, the dog would simply die at the hands of the darkspawn. At the very least, Nyx would offer it the cure it needed, and give it a chance.

They arrived at the location of the cache before long. On cue, Morrigan appeared, haughty as she ever was. Daveth warned that she might be a Witch of the Wilds. Nyx cleared her throat. He had no idea.

“You, surely a woman like yourself does not frighten as easily as these little boys. What say you? Scavenger? Intruder?” Morrigan asked.

“Neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this place. We’ve come seeking the documents that were in that chest. Would you happen to know where they could be located?” Nyx said.

“So you’ve come for those, have you? My mother did take them. Better in her hands than in those of the darkspawn,” Morrigan said.

“You mean to say you stole them,” Alistair said.

“I don’t believe it can be called stealing when the ones who abandoned them here are long dead,” Morrigan argued, crossing her arms.

“Would your mother be willing to return them to us?” Nyx asked.

“I am not the person to be asking. That is for mother to decide. Though I suppose I could take you to see her, at least. Unless you’ve something more important to attend to,” Morrigan said, clearly meaning to mock them.

Nyx paid this no mind, and said, “Thank you, we’d appreciate that. My name is Nyx, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She could almost feel the other three gaping at her at this polite gesture.

“Manners? Now that is not something I would have foreseen. My name is Morrigan, if you must know. Now follow closely, I shan’t be stopping to help you along if you fall behind,” Morrigan said, already turning.

Nyx went with her without further question, which left her three companions in the awkward position of needing to go, whether or not they wished to. Alistair kept pace beside Nyx, leaning down to whisper something to her.

“Are you certain this is a good idea? If she’s a witch maybe she plans to turn us into lizards and cook us or something,” Alistair said.

“She won’t,” Nyx said, then threw him a smile. “Trust me.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Alistair said under his breath. He probably didn’t trust Nyx yet, not fully, and that was alright. If he trusted to the extent where he would follow where she lead, it would be enough. To trust her with bigger things, with secrets and feelings, it would take time. Finally, Nyx realized that time was something she had in abundance. So long as she took the right steps, she could give time to those who were running out, as well.

Flemeth still looked like an old woman. Nothing but an old woman. Nyx would no longer be fooled by appearances. It seemed, by the reaction Flemeth had to seeing her, that the old woman wasn’t fooled either.

“Mother, I bring four Grey Wardens who-” Morrigan started to say.

“I see them, girl,” Flemeth said. “Just as I expected.”

“We’re really supposed to believe you were expecting us,” Alistair said.

“You are required to do nothing, least of all believe.”

The rest of the conversation went as it had before. Daveth and Jory were still worried about the women being witches, each expressing it in their own way. Flemeth seemed bored with their concerns. She said about as much, dismissing their comments.

Flemeth’s eyes moved slowly over the group, then turned to Nyx with sudden sharpness. “You seem somewhat out of place, girl. What have you done to get you here, I wonder.”

Nyx swallowed. There was no way she could answer that. Flemeth would not buy even the best lie Nyx could tell. Chances were, the old witch already knew.

“No need to look so frightened. Your secrets are not mine to share,” Flemeth said.

Nyx felt everyone watching her, asking themselves what she could possibly have to hide. Revealing that she had something to keep was bad enough. Nyx was certain Flemeth recognized that.

“A word of caution to you, however. He still follows. Take care where you go,” Flemeth said. A chill ran through Nyx’s bones, but Flemeth was already turning to address the rest of the group. “As for the rest of you, you came for your treaties, yes? Before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.”

“You-!” Alistair began. “Oh, you protected them?”

“And why not?” Flemeth said. “Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than they realize.” With a look to Nyx, she added. “If you are unable to convince them, I’m not certain anything will.”

“How much do you really know?” Nyx asked, eyes narrowed.

“Too much. Not enough. Or maybe I know nothing, and am just a batty old woman living in the wilds,” Flemeth said, laughing. “Do not mind me. You have what you came for.”

“Time for you to go then,” Morrigan said, probably wanting to shoo them away quick as she could.

“Don’t be silly girl. These are your guests,” Flemeth scolded lightly.

“Very well,” Morrigan sighed. “I will show you out of the woods. Follow me.” She rolled her eyes as soon as her face was out of Flemeth’s line of sight.

Nyx hurried to walk at Morrigan’s side. She wasn’t ready for the interrogation that was sure to come from the others regarding her “secret.” Morrigan seemed mostly disinterested, so she was a good person to stick by for the moment. Morrigan didn’t seem too happy about Nyx being so close to her, either, but she accepted it anyway. Nyx felt like she should apologize for something, but couldn’t think of any actual reason to be sorry, and said nothing.

Morrigan left them before they got too close to the camp, pointing them in the right direction in case they didn’t know, then sauntering off in the other direction. Nyx didn’t have her as a buffer anymore. Still, the others didn’t ask her about the witch’s words from earlier. She would face that when it came. For now they went to speak with Duncan.

“You’ve returned with everything. That was quicker than I expected, excellent work,” Duncan said. “Not too much trouble in the wilds, I hope.”

“No more than expected,” Nyx said, handing over the vials of darkspawn blood and the treaty papers. No one else spoke up. They didn’t want to bring up the two supposed witches they’d encountered. That was fine by Nyx.

“Glad to hear it,” Duncan said. “With the things you’ve brought me, I can finish the preparations for the Joining. Finish up any remaining business you have here in camp, then come see me just over there.” He pointed towards the same spot where Nyx had found Alistair earlier.

Nyx nodded. She walked towards the pens where the mabari were kept. She could hear the sick pup’s breath, heavy as he struggled through the pain. Nyx silently prayed to Mythal to protect the mabari and see him through the long night. If anyone asked, she was praying to the Maker.

“I heard you had a sick dog here and needed this for the antidote,” Nyx said, producing the wildflower.

“I didn’t even realize word had gotten around so much. Thank you, this is exactly what I need. He won’t be better by tonight, but once the battle is over, we can see about finding him someone new to bond to,” the kennel master said. “Perhaps you’d like to try?”

“Sorry, I’ve already got a mabari,” Nyx said, looking down at the dog. He was the real Perseus. It felt awful just leaving him there. “Why not Alistair?”

“Who, me? I wouldn’t even know what to do with him!” Alistair said, fumbling.

“I suppose it’s worth a try,” the kennel master said. “Come by in the morning, alright?”

Nyx could say nothing more. Admitting that she knew morning would not come for a majority of the people there was not an option. She simply nodded, hoping she looked like she believed that they could win tonight.

The four Wardens moved on to meet Duncan, who had set the Joining cup on a table. Nyx could barely breathe. She looked at Daveth, who had no chance of making it through the night, then to Ser Jory, who could only were he brave enough to try. With no way to convince him of this, she approached Duncan instead.

“Excuse me, but before we begin I’ve a small request,” Nyx said quietly, making certain that the others couldn’t hear. “Jory is more nervous than the rest of us. Perhaps it would be...prudent to let him go first, get it over with.”

Duncan stared down at her in disbelief. Nyx realized she likely was out of place to make such a request, but was relieved to see that Duncan nodded. He was curious about why she’d asked for this, but did not question her. That would wait until after he saw the results of this change.

The ceremony went as Nyx remembered. Alistair spoke the words over them, glancing at his feet as he said the last few. The words spoke of sacrifice and death, the last a reminder that no Grey Warden could escape a brutal fate. Duncan hadn’t even the time to explain the Calling to them. Nyx couldn’t remember how much Alistair knew, already.

“Ser Jory, please step forward,” Duncan said. Nyx expected him to look at her, but Duncan kept face as he handed the cup to Jory. This time, Jory drank of it.

He gasped and convulsed, falling to the floor. Duncan had an eerie calm as he leaned over Ser Jory to check the man’s pulse. Dead. So neither of them had ever had a chance. Nyx felt ill.

Daveth was staring at the body, but did not run. Before he took the cup, he looked towards Nyx. Had she not asked him about running earlier that day? But she would not meet Daveth’s eye. Her warning was not enough to save him.

Daveth fell as expected. Alistair moved the bodies of the men before Nyx, so she didn’t have to walk over or between their corpses. Nyx was unafraid as she took the cup. She could do this, she had to. Her destiny continued as a Grey Warden. She would not die tonight.

The taste was far worse than she remembered. It was iron and salt and bile, with an aftertaste of something sickly sweet like rotten fruit. Her eyes rolled back as visions of the darkspawn horde flashed in her mind. Nyx heard the Archdemon’s familiar roar, then her legs buckled beneath her. The next time she opened her eyes, with Alistair and Duncan hovering over her, she was truly a Grey Warden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered whether Jory would have been able to survive if he’d just tried. The Joining is weird, who knows for sure. ...maybe David Gaider?


	6. Lost Cause

Nyx had to tear her eyes away from the dead bodies of Daveth and Jory. Now she knew without a doubt that neither of them had ever had a chance of survival. At least this time, both of them had died with dignity and honor. It was the least she could offer.

Now her attention was fully on Duncan, in every respect. Nyx kept her eyes fixed on him as he told her to meet with King Cailan and Teyrn Loghain as soon as she was ready. She could not change the Teyrn’s plan, nor the King’s. Neither was something one of her standing could hope to achieve. Duncan, however, could yet be convinced. If he stayed on, stayed with Nyx and Alistair instead of fighting in the battle directly, he had a chance to live.

This much she had to believe. Looking at Alistair, she wouldn’t allow herself not to try.

“Two dead,” Alistair said. He was having a similar problem, unable to draw his eyes from the bodies. Looking at Nyx, the sole survivor, helped him a little. “For mine it was just one death, but we were a larger group. I suppose the odds are never exact.”

“Will they be buried?” Nyx asked.

“In the morning, yeah. Everyone’s a bit busy with the battle right now,” Alistair said. “I’m sorry, you’ve got somewhere to be. Don’t let me keep you. I’ll be back at the camp.”

“Make sure to tell Perseus I’m alright,” Nyx said. Alistair gave her a funny look, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “Mabari are incredibly smart, you know. He’s probably worried sick.”

“Alright, I will inform your _dog_ that you will be back shortly. But if this is just your idea of a prank, I will find a way to get back at you,” Alistair said.

“I promise it isn’t,” Nyx said, starting to walk away. But then she stopped, turning to add, “My pranks are far more clever than that.”

He didn’t need to know that by her pranks, she meant Tamlen’s. They were never that clever, either, and mostly involved tormenting poor Merrill. Still, watching the grin start up on Alistair’s face was completely worth it. It distracted from the gray that surrounded Nyx’s head most of the time.

Loghain’s plan was the same; Cailan would lead an initial charge, then with a signal fire, a second charge lead by Loghain would strike when needed. Nyx felt her fingers curl into her palms. The teyrn lied so easily and yet she could say nothing. When Cailan informed Nyx that she would be going into the tower to light the signal flare, she was ready for it.

“Would I be expected to go alone? I may be a Warden, but I have only just gone through the Joining,” Nyx said, forcing herself not to steal any glances at Duncan.

“It is my understanding that there is another junior Warden present in Ostagar. The two of you should be enough to light the signal. The Tower of Ishal will be empty and far from the fight, safe from any danger,” Cailan said. “I know that doesn’t sound very exciting, but it is a vital task. I want my best men on it.”

“I simply wonder if it wouldn’t be best to give us as much guidance as possible. Send Duncan with us,” Nyx said. This time she did look to the older Warden. He appeared somewhat alarmed, though he was clearly trying not to show it. It was hard to hide those kinds of things from Nyx.

“I am needed in the field. I trust that you and Alistair will handle yourselves just fine without me,” Duncan said. “Your majesty, please allow me to speak with my recruit in private. I will see to it that the task you require is done.”

“Thank you, Duncan. Meet us with the rest of the troops, when the time comes,” Cailan said.

Duncan placed a hand on Nyx’s back, pushing her gently away from the rest of the advisors. She swallowed. Would he be angry with her for this? Duncan spoke to her as they walked towards the campsite.

“What is it you are so concerned about?” he asked. He’d removed his hand at this point, knowing Nyx would follow.

“What do you mean?” Nyx said.

“You have proven yourself capable. You have not been afraid of any task given you today, until now,” Duncan said. He stared straight ahead. “There was something in your eyes...in the way you reacted when you found out about going to the tower. Before that, to the wilds. To find Alistair. Nothing caught you off guard. Almost as if...you already knew.”

Duncan chuckled as if there were a chance yet that he was joking.

Nyx’s shoulders tensed. “That’s…” Nyx started. _Crazy? Perceptive? What can I say?_ “What if I did?”

Duncan didn’t say anything, but he stopped walking. Nyx was relieved. She didn’t want to have this conversation too close to where Alistair might overhear. She wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be, but told herself that he had the right to know. Someday, anyway.

“Duncan I...I can’t say exactly how or why I know what I do, but I need you to know this. If you go out into battle with Cailan tonight, you will die. Loghain will betray the King and will retreat when the fire goes up in the tower. We won’t be able to signal it on time because the darkspawn will invade through a tunnel at the bottom of the tower and infest it before we get there. They will outnumber you. Alistair and I...we will only survive because we are rescued. By someone who needs the Wardens. Were you with us there could be a chance they would save you, too,” Nyx explained.

Duncan stared for a long moment before he spoke again. “You aren’t lying,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Or you don’t believe you are.” He breathed heavily, looking in the direction of the camp before turning back to Nyx. “You are certain of all of this?”

Nyx nodded. She wasn’t sure what else could be said. She was having a little trouble breathing, now that she’d revealed all of this to Duncan. It was better him than anyone else. Nyx was certain most of the other people she’d grown close to would have been much less calm at this point. Though it was something of an accident that things ended up this way, perhaps it was for the better.

“What of the king?” Duncan asked.

Nyx gaped, trying to form the words. “He...won’t survive.”

“Knowing that, would you expect me to flee the field?”

“No. I don’t mean for you to abandon Ca- the king, but there is no way to convince him to leave. No one can tell a king what to do but himself. Even advisors can just...advise. There’s nothing I can do about him but you-!”

“I am a Grey Warden,” Duncan interrupted, “and I am loyal to my king. Even if you believe there is no chance, I must use what you have told me to try and keep him from harm. You know that I must.”

Nyx felt her eyes burn with the threat of tears. She would not cry in front of Duncan. She couldn’t. Duncan would never think her weak, not like other men might, but it would be to her shame if she was left so vulnerable now. Her eyes would become red and puffy, the signs of her tears inescapable if she let herself cry like she very much wanted to. Nyx knew Alistair would notice that, at the very least. Nyx was also uncertain that she would be able to stop herself if she started. There was too much going on to allow this.

“I understand,” Nyx said, steeling herself. “I suppose I would do the same in your position.”

“What else do you know?” Duncan asked, voice quieter.

“Everything,” she said. “Well, almost everything. The Blight is real, but the Archdemon remains underground for now. It will show itself, months from now, when it has amassed a real army. I know a Warden must die to kill it. I know Alistair’s father is…”

“I see,” Duncan said. “Then you understand that if King Cailan is truly in danger, Alistair must not come to harm.”

Nyx nodded. As if she’d allow him to be hurt, no matter whose son he was.

“I must admit I’m curious as to how you know all of this, but understand if you are unwilling to tell me,” Duncan said.

“I’ve lived this before,” Nyx said, “in a sense.” She could not meet his eyes.

“I hope that has prepared you for all that must be done,” Duncan said. “We should hurry. The battle will soon begin, and all of us Grey Wardens are needed. You must promise me one last thing. You will not tell Alistair what you know of tonight. He would insist on joining me in the battle.”

“He will insist on it regardless,” Nyx said. “But I have no plans of telling him.”

Duncan nodded, and started to walk away from her. She inhaled, then followed.

Alistair argued, as Nyx knew he would, that a Warden belonged in the fight, not on a glorified errand. Nyx said she agreed, only to show some solidarity. Duncan scolded the both of them, but the way he looked at Nyx, he must have understood what she was doing.

“I get it. I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no,” Alistair said.

Nyx couldn’t help but chuckle at the image. It was a welcome break to the somber mood. It was what Alistair did best.

“I think I’d like to see that,” Nyx said.

“For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress,” Alistair said.

Duncan groaned, then left them to join King Cailan and his soldiers in the front lines. Nyx could barely stand to watch him go. Alistair put a hand on her shoulder, which nearly made her jump.

“Don’t worry,” he said. He must have noticed the slight furrow in her brows. “Duncan is one of the best warriors I’ve ever seen. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Alistair didn’t look like he believed it, but it was comforting to hear nevertheless.

“Let’s hurry to the tower then,” Nyx said. “Duncan will be counting on us.”

It was a lost cause, but Nyx pressed onward. She directed the mage and soldier that joined them to clear the Tower of Ishal with the experience of a skilled leader. It was not unfamiliar to her, after all.

The ogre at the top even seemed easier, now. She had fought a number of the beasts by then and could see the way they signaled each charge and attack of theirs. The mage kept far from the fight and took care to move if ever the ogre grew too close. When the soldier was grabbed, Alistair was ready with his shield, bashing into the enemy and forcing it to stumble and release his hold on the man. Nyx made the finishing blow herself.

“They’ve probably given the signal by now,” Alistair said, wiping sweat from his face. “We should light the fire, just there.”

Nyx nodded, instructing the mage to set the thing aflame with magic. It was quicker that way, easier than trying to strike flint until it sparked.

Nyx was prepared when the room flooded with darkspawn, but knew they were outnumbered. She just had to make sure they could last. It wasn’t about powerful swings, this time, but about maintaining her stamina to keep Alistair alive. Nyx instructed him to stay close.

Her eyes searched the sky for signs of Flemeth. She had been unconscious last time they were rescued, and didn’t know what form the old witch took. It had to be something large and with the ability to fly. Nothing else would do.

But a Hurlock came out from behind and struck Nyx hard. She collapsed, hearing someone scream her name. She was sure it was Alistair, but the way her ears rung she could have been wrong. He fell beside her moments later.

Nyx reached a hand towards him, then cried out when something came in contact with her stomach, kicking her. She felt a shadow overhead, then watched it grow impossibly large. Nyx thought she heard a roar. The only things she’d ever heard make a sound quite like that were dragons.

Her eyes were closing, darkness creeping into her vision and stealing her sight. There was fire spreading around them. Nyx fell unconscious with heat on her face and great pains in her entire body.

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx awoke in her smallclothes under heavy blankets. She sat up, and in the haze it took her a moment to recognize the old house. Morrigan stood over her.

“Finally awake, I see. Good. Perhaps the other one will calm down once he sees that you are fine, despite the fact that I already informed him you would be many times,” Morrigan said. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

“Yes,” Nyx said. “The tower was overrun with darkspawn. I blacked out.”

“Do you remember mother’s daring rescue?” Morrigan said, with a hint of sarcasm.

“No,” Nyx said. “She saved us? Both of us?”

“Yes. Your fellow Warden is outside, still blubbering about the loss, no doubt. You wouldn’t remember this, but your king was betrayed. The man who was meant to lead the second charge...quit the field. Everyone on the battlefield was dead by morning. Your friend has been inconsolable,” Morrigan said.

“It’s alright, I can talk to him,” Nyx said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

“Well, good. Mother wanted to speak to you as well, once you were awake. ‘Tis something of great importance, she said. If you’ve any questions, for the moment, I could answer them for you while you dress,” Morrigan offered.

“I have no questions,” Nyx said. “I just wish to thank you for your aid.”

“Thank… There is no need, for I have done nothing. ‘Twas mother who healed your wounds and saved your life, not I. I appreciate the sentiment, I suppose,” Morrigan said.

She had this way of becoming flustered when kindness was shown to her. How unused to such gestures was she? Nyx regretted not becoming closer to Morrigan before and wanted to make up for all that lost time.

Nyx put her armor back on and joined Alistair outside. Morrigan went to finish the meal she’d been cooking, leaving the two Wardens alone.

This time Nyx could see every detail on Alistair’s face. The red of his eyes outlined by tired circles. His stubble on his chin that had grown from a day without shaving. The way his hair was mussed more so than usual, like he’d run his hands through it many times. Alistair’s whole body was weaker, taking the weight of gravity and not bothering to resist it. He smiled when he noticed Nyx beside him, but even the corners of his mouth could barely lift themselves. There was effort behind the look he gave her.

“You’re awake, thank the Maker. I thought for sure you were dead,” Alistair said. “I assume she told you everything that happened, already.”

“She did,” Nyx said.

She nearly reacted naturally to the sight of Alistair, so broken from the previous night. Nyx would have stroked his cheek, held him close and kissed him gently. She would have told him that she was there for him, in whatever way he needed. Instead, she didn’t touch him at all. Nyx wasn’t sure she was allowed to.

“Then you know,” Alistair said. “Duncan is gone. King Cailan, too. And Loghain betrayed them.”

Nyx could only nod. Flemeth approached, which spared Nyx the trouble of finding words.

“He is hardly your biggest concern, young man,” she said, then looked to Nyx. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

“Thank you for your help,” Nyx said.

“Oh, ah, yes. Thank yooou… What should we be calling you?” Alistair asked.

“Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do,” Flemeth said.

Nyx had actually forgotten that they had not yet learned her name officially. She had to start keeping better track of what she should and shouldn’t know, regardless of all she was already aware of.

“Wait, you mean _the_ Flemeth? Of legend?” Alistair asked. “You really are the Witch of the Wilds.”

“What does that matter? I know a bit of magic and it has served the both of you quite well, has it not?” Flemeth said.

“And we are grateful to you for that, but there is work yet to be done,” Nyx said.

“All work and no play, I see. No, that is a good thing. There is a long road lying ahead for the both of you. The world needs the Grey Wardens before this Blight takes it from us all,” Flemeth said.

“We cannot do this alone,” Nyx said carefully. “Just two Wardens could not defeat the Blight.”

“The treaties!” Alistair said. He checked quickly to see that he still had them. Duncan had entrusted them to Alistair for safe-keeping, just in case of the worst possible scenario occurring. “These promise aid to the Wardens in time of need. If we seek out the dwarves, elves, and mages, we might just stand a chance against the darkspawn.”

“Is there any other help we could seek?” Nyx said. She already knew he would suggest going to Redcliffe, but she had to coax each answer out of him. It was so hard not to simply show that she already had all the answers. Nyx could feel Flemeth’s eyes studying her.

“Perhaps we could go to Arl Eamon in Redcliffe. He may be able to help us with Loghain, as well as the darkspawn,” Alistair said, jaw clenching at the mention of the teyrn.

“Dwarves, elves...this Arl of yours. It sounds to me as if you’re building an army,” Flemeth said.

“We’ll need one if we’re going to face the horde,” Nyx said.

“Not to mention the Archdemon,” Alistair added.

“Then you’ve got a plan. Good, you will need to be ready to face this threat,” Flemeth said.

“The stew is ready, mother. Shall we be having two guests, or none?” Morrigan said, walking up to join them.

“They are leaving, girl. And so are you,” Flemeth said.

“I...what?!” Morrigan shouted.

“You heard me girl. Last time I checked, you had ears,” Flemeth said. She turned to Nyx, adding, “Her magic should prove of use to you. Consider it repayment for your lives.”

“That’s not necessary, we’ll really be fine on our own. We’ve even got the dog, so we’re definitely fine,” Alistair said, pointing out Perseus, who napped lazily on the ground.

“Nonsense. Unless the mabari can cast spells, he will not serve as much use,” Flemeth said, laughing at her joke. “Though that would be quite the sight to see.”

“Mother, how kind of you to cast me off at a moment’s notice,” Morrigan said through grit teeth.

“You always said you wanted to see more of the world, and now you can,” Flemeth said.

“We could certainly use the help,” Nyx said. “And I promise we will be certain that she does not come to harm with us.”

“Really? We’re taking her just because her mother said so?” Alistair said, looking nervously between the three women. “Plus, she’s an apostate. That could add to our problems.”

“If you did not wish help from us illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you in that tower,” Flemeth said.

“We’re not really in the position to turn down help, Alistair,” Nyx argued. “No matter the form.”

“True,” he said. “I’m still not really thrilled by the idea.”

“Well, neither am I,” Morrigan said. “This isn’t how I wanted this. I don’t even think I’m ready to-”

“They need you, Morrigan. If they do not succeed, all of us will fall to the Blight. Even I,” Flemeth said. Nyx wondered if that was actually true. She knew Flemeth was more than a simple apostate, just as the Changeling had been.

“I...understand,” Morrigan said.

They started away once Morrigan was ready. Nyx shook Perseus awake as gently as she could, and the loyal pup followed, his tail wagging. Morrigan suggested they first stop in Lothering, as Nyx had already planned on doing. She hoped Leliana would join them again.

Nyx also remembered another, whose life she’d failed to save before. A caged Qunari whom the Revered Mother had refused to see released. Nyx hoped she would find a way this time to be certain that he lived, or at the very least, that he did not perish to the threat of the darkspawn while locked up and defenseless in a cage.

“...or if you wish, I can be naught but your silent guide,” Morrigan said when Nyx had not responded to a comment she’d made.

“I’m sorry, I was simply making plans in my head. You should speak your mind. Your input is appreciated,” Nyx said.

“I’d bet ten silvers that you regret saying that by the time we get to Lothering,” Alistair said.

Morrigan, to her credit, managed to ignore him this time. Instead she simply smiled slightly at Nyx, and gestured for her to lead the way.

♢♢♢♢♢

The first leg of their journey north was wrapped in silence. Nyx was going through what needed to be done yet in her head, thinking of ways to urge the townspeople to head towards Denerim, or out of Ferelden entirely if they could. Clan Sabrae had gone north by this time, to the Free Marches. It was far enough, Nyx supposed, to escape the immediate danger. Darkspawn could crawl out of any hole leading to the Deep Roads, but they would only follow the commands of the Archdemon.

Alistair, on the other hand, was silent out of misery. Nyx knew he would be uncharacteristically quiet for quite a while. She offered space, for the time being.

Morrigan, on the other hand, simply saw no reason to speak. With the Grey Wardens lost in their own thoughts, she happily retreated to her own.

The dreams came quicker than Nyx had remembered them doing last time. Perhaps it was awareness, or perhaps it was the magic still lingering on her, but it was just as terrifying as the first time she’d seen it. She sat up quick, a scream choked in her throat. Alistair was already up, looking over to Nyx in her bedroll.

“I saw it too,” Alistair said. “I’m sorry, with everything that’s been going on I should have remembered to tell you about the dreams. It’s part of what the Joining does to us, connecting us to the darkspawn. It’s why we can sense them. Duncan had dreams of the Archdemon, before. It’s how he knew it was really a Blight. I’ve not seen it yet, myself.”

“It gets easier?” Nyx said, putting a slight lift in her voice to make it sound like a question. In her heart, it was more of a reminder to herself. Her new body needed to adjust to the Warden blood.

“Over time, yeah. Some of the older Wardens even claimed they could understand the Archdemon, but I don’t think I could. Also, I’ll be glad if I never do,” Alistair admitted.

“Since we’re up, do you mind if we talk? I’m not sure I’ll be able to go back to sleep, yet,” Nyx said.

“Sure, if it helps. Something specific you wanted to know?” Alistair asked.

“I’d like to know about you, actually,” Nyx said.

“Me? I’m not that interesting,” Alistair said.

“I will be the judge of that,” she insisted. “Where were you before you were with the Grey Wardens?”

Alistair told her about his history as a templar in training. She remembered the story well, but her reactions were no less genuine for knowing it. Nyx genuinely laughed and smiled when he mentioned Duncan’s conscription driving the Revered Mother crazy. She asked more questions, trying to think of things she didn’t already know the answer to, but it proved to be difficult. Nyx had known him so well, given all the nights like this they’d stayed up talking.

“So now you know a lot about me,” Alistair said, “but I still don’t know too much about you. Duncan mentioned a bit but it would be nice to hear it from you.”

“Well, I met Duncan back in Highever. He was going to recruit a friend of mine, Ser Gilmore. I wanted to go with them as well but my father wouldn’t allow it,” Nyx said. “This actually just occurred to me but, did Duncan mention my family?”

“He said that they had been killed, just before you left. I’m sorry you lost them,” Alistair said.

“I appreciate it. But he didn’t tell you who they were?” Nyx asked. Alistair shook his head, and she took a deep breath. “My father was the teyrn of Highever. I’m a Cousland. A noble.”

Alistair’s eyes widened, his brows raised. Nyx felt a warmth in her cheeks. She didn’t feel right using that name, but it was hers, now, stolen or not. Still, she didn’t want Alistair to treat her any differently than he had before.

He reassured her that he wouldn’t when he grinned and said, “So I should have been calling you ‘my lady’ this whole time?”

“Maker’s breath, no. I’m not even sure I’m still considered nobility, considering that Howe’s men killed most of us. The only hope I have is if my brother, Fergus, made it out of Ostagar alive, but that’s doubtful,” Nyx said.

“Howe’s men killed your family?” Alistair said.

“And betrayed my father’s trust in him,” Nyx said. Since her memories had taken too long to return, in a way, Howe betrayed her trust as well, but she still didn’t feel like it. Nyx knew her true self, not the Cousland counterpart the Changeling’s magic created in her mind, would never have trusted Howe. She’d been a different person before she woke up and started to remember Nyx Mahariel.

“Maybe Arl Eamon can help you get justice for that, as well,” Alistair offered.

“I suppose we’ll see,” Nyx said, hugging her knees.

Eamon was likely already sick, poisoned by a blood mage puppeted by Loghain. Which meant the town was soon to be plagued by undead hordes. Perhaps it was best to go there, first.

There was so much she knew would happen, but would the timing be the same? Or was everything thrown into chaos all at once, no matter where she went first? Which direction would be the best to take to ensure that the most lives were saved possible? Nyx’s head was starting to hurt as she debated over this.

“You’re starting to look a little pale,” Alistair said. “Well, paler. Maybe you should try to sleep more. We’ve a long way to go before Lothering.”

Nyx nodded, lying back. She had to force her mind into silence before she could even attempt to sleep again, but once she did, her exhaustion overtook her. No matter where she went, Nyx would go there with Alistair. That alone made her feel like there was some certainty to it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to leave Ostagar and meet all our other favorites! And maybe a few people you guys don’t even know yet. ;)


	7. Still Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title not at ALL inspired by the fact that I recently replayed Portal and learned how to play this song on ukulele. Suuuuper long chapter this time. It’s probably going to be the only one that is this long, and it’s only because something huge happens. Enjoy!

Lothering was just as bleak as Nyx remembered. The bandits on the bridge were easy to be rid of, sending them running away within the first minute of arrival. Once Nyx had lifted her giant sword and cut a gash into the leg of one of their men, they squealed like pigs for the slaughter and tore off without looking back. Of course, with one of them limping a little. A little brutality was necessary, but Nyx would still try to avoid it where she could.

They were only a few steps into town when Morrigan asked about their plans. Nyx had decided on going to Redcliffe as soon as everything in Lothering was taken care of. She wanted desperately to seek out the Dalish with the hopes of feeling more at home again, but knew that there were more important issues to take care of. Once Connor was cured, meaning both Redcliffe and the Tower would be safe, she could go to the Dalish without fear of the consequences.

The three of them, plus Perseus, were able to handle the Chanter’s board jobs with little to no trouble. Morrigan sighed and voiced her disapproval whenever Nyx solved petty problems the villagers were having, but Nyx paid her no mind. She would quietly take some of the people she’d helped aside, insisting that at the first chance they got they ought to continue moving north. What coin she could offer she would, though she tried to leave enough to pick up poultices and more sturdy weapons and armor for herself and Alistair.

It was on their way towards the tavern that a couple of people in armor ran past. They looked just as ragged as the rest of the refugees, but far better dressed. They were armed, as well. Nyx only noticed them for this and because something had slipped from the pack the woman of the pair was carrying. Nyx picked it up with some haste and called after them.

“Excuse me! You dropped something!” Nyx shouted.

The woman up ahead froze, turning her head around. The man nearly skidded in his attempt to stop without running into his companion. He pointed to the woman’s pack.

“I told you to fix that hole, now look at it. We’ve probably lost more supplies now,” he grumbled.

“Carver, I tried to fix it, but it’s kind of hard when you’ve nothing to mend things with,” the woman argued, starting back towards Nyx. “Thank you for your help. I’d buy you a drink as thanks, but I’m afraid my brother and I are in something of a hurry. Take care of yourselves out there, those darkspawn are nasty creatures.”

“We will,” Nyx said, nodding.

“I’m sure you will. You look plenty capable. Anyway, better go before my brother has a fit. My name’s Hawke, by the way. No need for you to know, I just like sharing,” Hawke said. She turned quickly and headed back towards her brother. “I’m sure mother or Bethany would happily fix this hole for us.”

“All the more reason to get home,” Carver said. “Now let’s go, before you try to make friends with more random strangers.”

“But strangers are so interesting! You’re no fun,” Hawke said, laughing as they hurried away.

“At least some people are handling the Blight well,” Alistair said, his sarcasm evident.

“We all deal with things in our own way, I suppose,” Nyx reasoned. Really, she was a little confused. That was an encounter she hadn’t remembered. It was reasonable to think she would forget some details, but she was almost certain that she’d simply not encountered the pair before then. Nyx had to consider the possibility that there were other things she’d experience that she wasn’t prepared for. It wasn’t comforting.

Leliana was just where Nyx remembered, as were Loghain’s men. Just as the bandits on the bridge, Nyx offered mercy to these men that they likely didn’t deserve. It didn’t matter. She sent them along with a message for Loghain. The Grey Wardens were alive and knew what Loghain had done.

“Thank you for showing those men mercy,” Leliana said. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Leliana, a former sister of the Chantry here in Lothering. This might sound a little strange, but I think I was supposed to meet you here today.”

“What makes you say that?” Nyx asked. She tried not to smile when it crossed her mind to give away that she already knew. It would probably confirm everything Leliana had already thought about the Maker giving her this task. Nyx couldn’t do so without alerting her other companions to the fact that she knew more than she ought to, however.

“I had a vision from the Maker. I know that sounds insane, but I swear it is true. I had a dream that I was supposed to help someone trying to stop a great darkness from swallowing the world. Who better fits that description right now than the Grey Wardens?” Leliana said.

“Oh good, we needed more crazy people among us,” Morrigan muttered.

“Please, if you are truly Wardens, I would like to travel with you,” Leliana said.

“We’re not asking the most important question here,” Alistair said. “Where in Thedas does a Chantry sister know how to fight like that?”

“Not all sisters lived mundane lives before joining the Chantry. Some of us go there seeking solace from our lives before, to find peace with the Maker,” Leliana said.

“Regardless, you are clearly skilled. We could use someone with that kind of talent,” Nyx said. “You are welcome to come with us.”

Leliana’s face lit up. “Thank you! I promise I will try to make myself useful to you in whatever capacity you require.”

The first moment she was truly needed came just moments later, when Nyx and her companions finally approached the caged Qunari. Last time she had met Sten, she had known nothing of the Qun, but in her time researching, she came across a lot about them. As those were human accounts on the subject, she was uncertain how accurate they were, but she felt as if she had a better understanding of the giant now.

“If you have come to amuse yourself by staring at the prisoner, I suggest you move along,” Sten growled.

“Who imprisoned you here?” Nyx asked.

“Members of your Chantry put me in this cage for my crimes,” he said.

“The Revered Mother told me about this creature,” Leliana said. “He slaughtered an innocent family. Killed them in cold blood. But she did not want to decide his fate, so she claims she’s left it up to the Maker by leaving him here. In all honesty, she’s merely doomed him to die at the hands of the darkspawn, trapped and defenseless.”

“So she wants this proud creature to die what to him is surely a dishonorable death? Truly, your Chantry is wise and just,” Morrigan said sarcastically, crossing her arms. “I say we free him. The Qunari are a warrior race. Surely we can find plenty of use for him.”

“He does look big and scary,” Alistair said, looking Sten up and down. “But he’s a murderer! What if we just become his next victims?”

“Perhaps, if you wish to atone for your sins, you can come with us and do some good. We are Grey Wardens, seeking to end the Blight that threatens Ferelden and all of Thedas.”

“Hmm,” Sten hummed thoughtfully. “I have heard of your order and its strength. Very well. If you can convince your Chantry to free me into your service, I will fell any darkspawn that cross our path.”

“Leliana,” Nyx started to say, turning to her companion. “Would you be able to speak to the Revered Mother on our behalf?”

“I will do this, if you wish,” Leliana said, nodding her head.

Nyx turned back to the Qunari one last time to ask, “What shall we call you?”

“I am Sten of the Beresaad - the Vanguard - of the Qunari people,” he answered.

Nyx and the others walked back towards the Chantry, prepared to speak on Sten’s behalf. To Nyx’s surprise, it was actually very easy to convince the Revered Mother with Leliana to speak for him. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was her elven body and clearly Dalish tattoos and weaponry that caused the mother not to trust her before. Being a human certainly had its benefits, but the knowledge of them only made Nyx more bitter.

They took the key to Sten and released him. He’d been crouching slightly in the cage, but at his full height, Nyx realized how hard it might prove to find him some proper armor. For the time being, they simply found him a sword. Nyx knew there was an armorer in Redcliffe with incredible speed and skill in his craft. Perhaps they would commission armor for the Qunari when they had the chance.

Nyx was disappointed when a group of villagers once again sought to kill them for money. She held up her hands before anyone could order an attack.

“I have sent many families on their way with a bit of coin to leave Lothering. This town will not be safe much longer. If you truly wish to provide for the ones you love, split this amongst yourselves,” Nyx said, pausing to toss what money she had left to the ground, “and go. Leave as soon as possible. Loghain and his men care not for your suffering.”

The villagers paused, looking to each other for a decision. The mob mentality had been easy to follow, but this was truly unexpected. Morrigan, to Nyx’s surprise, had nothing to say about this action. Though there was the unmistakable sound of a groan.

“I...am shamed by your kindness, Grey Warden,” the villager who had spoken for the group before said, bowing his head. “We will go, with our lives, if you will allow it.”

Nyx stepped aside to show that they could pass. The villager took the coin purse Nyx had thrown down, then gestured for his fellows to come along. They followed, their heads similarly bowed.

“And now we’ve no coin,” Morrigan said. “Do you treat everyone who threatens to kill you like this?”

“Those men were desperate. They just sought the best for their families,” Nyx said. She looked back on Lothering, imagining the flames that would turn it to naught but ash and rubble. Those men needed to leave. If those lives, at the very least, were spared, it was a start to the change Nyx had hoped to make.

The group once again saved Bodahn and Sandal. Nyx was surprised to hear that he didn’t wish to travel with dangerous sorts. He was never far behind the path her group cleared, after all, and stayed in their camp every night. She was certain it would not be the last she saw of Bodahn Feddic and his son, no matter what he said.

The day was late by then, so it wasn’t much further in their travels when night fell. They were forced to set camp. With their number increased, it made the job go by quicker than before. As Nyx suspected, Bodahn and Sandal rolled up in their cart mere minutes after they’d begun setting camp. To make the rest of their travels more painless, she officially hired them on to store their supplies. Bodahn was happy to oblige. This way they were able to travel unencumbered by the excess of bedrolls and tents.

It was nice to see Alistair and Leliana starting to get along. Sten was not one for small talk, and insisted on standing guard most of the night. Morrigan had yet again set herself up aways from the rest of the group. Nyx left Alistair and Leliana with their conversation, going to see the reclusive witch.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Nyx said as she walked up to Morrigan. The scowl she received had to be one of the best she’d ever seen, even from Morrigan herself.

“I am fine,” Morrigan said. “‘Tis most curious. When my mother asked me what I saw in you, I had trouble answering her. There is magic in you, but not of your own, and not the kind I might expect someone with your excessive charity to carry. I wondered if you even knew of it, because you seem truly unbothered by its presence. But I have watched you.” Morrigan began pacing. “Nothing has taken you by surprise. You ask the right questions, say the right things. How is it you know so well what to do to get what you wish out of people?”

Nyx swallowed. She’d not bothered to fool herself into thinking that Morrigan, of all people, would not notice something was off. To hear that she could sense the Changeling’s magic on Nyx was the most frightening thing. It was like residue that left a stain in her, perhaps forever.

“What do you know about the magic?” Nyx asked.

“I know it is dark and unlike any I’ve seen before. That, you must know, is impressive for someone with a mother like mine,” Morrigan noted.

Nyx nodded. Flemeth was more than she seemed to be. It had always been that way, but only now was Nyx fully aware of this.

“It’s a long story, but of everyone here, you are among the two that deserve to know most of all,” Nyx said.

“And the other?” Morrigan asked.

“Alistair.”

Morrigan paused, looking past Nyx at the other Warden. He was gesturing wildly as he recounted some story from his youth. Morrigan frowned. The man was a complete fool, in her not-so-humble opinion, and she wasn’t fond of being made similar to him in any way.

“Alright,” Morrigan said finally, “you’ve my undivided attention.”

“I need more than that, if you really want me to tell you everything,” Nyx said. “You must promise me that not a word of this is shared with anyone else. I will tell them myself, when I am ready.” She considered asking for Morrigan to reserve her judgments at well, but that would be asking too much of the witch. More than her desire to escape ridicule or lectures, she needed Morrigan to keep this a secret.

“I swear to you that I will not breathe a word of it to them, if that is so important to you,” Morrigan said.

“It is. Thank you,” Nyx said. Morrigan was likely just too curious not to accept those terms, but it satisfied Nyx.

Nyx stole one last glance back to Alistair before she started her story. She started by explaining that she had once been Dalish, and lived this all before. She skipped most of the adventures they’d been on, needing to share the larger details more than every small encounter. What was hardest was when Nyx had to reveal that she knew of Morrigan’s ritual, and had denied it once before. Morrigan looked both fearful and furious at her for this.

“But it was a mistake to deny you, I know that now. At first I wanted only to return to that time, so he could live. Alistair died to save me, and I couldn’t live with that. But the Changeling offered more,” Nyx said.

“A noblewoman’s life and body,” Morrigan finished for her. “And the chance to stay with your beloved forever.”

“Exactly,” Nyx said.

Morrigan allowed Nyx to finish her story. Nyx told her how she’d met Hera, how she’d sacrificed the girl’s life to take it from her, and how at the last second, the Changeling became a powerful abomination. She was able to admit, for the first time to anyone, that she feared he’d followed, given Flemeth’s warnings.

“If he has, this abomination will no doubt seek you,” Morrigan said. “You are tied to it, after all.”

“But what more could it want from me?” Nyx said.

“I do not claim to understand the whims of those possessed by demons,” Morrigan said. “‘twould be wise to be wary, regardless of his intentions.”

Nyx nodded. “Is there anything else you wish to know?” she asked.

“I believe you’ve said quite enough for now,” Morrigan said. “It explains much, especially those pathetic looks you often give Alistair. Do not pretend like you do not, I’m certain we’ve all noticed them. What surprises me is that you know of my intentions and yet you still trust me with this.”

“You’re going to save Alistair’s life,” Nyx said. “And you were right before...or the other version of yourself was. You gave me no reason to distrust you, not really. Doubting you was a moment of weakness, and it was more about my own shortcomings.”

“Honestly, even after you’ve come so far in your goal, you still sound so pathetic,” Morrigan groaned. “You have what many wish they could get: a second chance. Do not waste it with your worries.”

“That’s… Thank you, Morrigan,” Nyx said slowly. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Morrigan said. “And do not thank me, for I have done nothing. I will keep your secret as promised. Now you should leave. We need our sleep if we intend on reaching Redcliffe before those undead you mentioned kill everyone in sight.”

“You’re certain you’ve no more questions?” Nyx said.

“For the moment, I do not care,” Morrigan said, waving her hand in dismissal. “But tomorrow, I will expect you to inform me of any other dangers you know we will face. It will be better if the both of us are fully prepared for what is to come.”

Nyx nodded in agreement and left Morrigan. Leliana had gone to sleep by the time Nyx returned to their side of the camp, and Sten appeared to be nodding off despite himself. Alistair was awake, but barely. He’d been waiting for Nyx.

“You and Morrigan sure had a long chat,” he said somewhat grimly. “I wasn’t aware she had anything to say besides the fact that she wishes she could set me on fire. Please, tell me that wasn’t what the two of you were talking about.”

Nyx laughed. “No, but if we had been I would have talked her out of it,” she said, lying back on her bedroll.

“What were you talking about then?” Alistair asked.

“Feminine things,” Nyx teased. “All sorts of girl talk.”

“I didn’t know she was capable of such a thing,” Alistair said.

“She can be,” Nyx said. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Alistair.”

“Oh, be quiet will you. You’re starting to sound like her,” he said. “It worries me.”

Nyx laughed again. “Goodnight, Alistair.” She’d missed saying his name.

“Goodnight, Nyx.” And she’d missed hearing her own.

♢♢♢♢♢

They were more than halfway towards Redcliffe within the week. Alistair appeared to grow more nervous as they drew closer. Nyx knew this was because he planned on revealing the secret of his birth. She supposed that now, Morrigan knew as well. Though the witch did take a few opportunities to mention how Nyx had dealt in forces she didn’t fully comprehend, on the whole it had proven a good idea to confide in her.

Morrigan agreed that the plan to go first to Redcliffe, then the Circle Tower, then return to save Connor from the demon was likely the best course of action. When she knew that helping all these strangers actually afforded them some benefits, Morrigan was more accepting of offering them assistance. She still expressed some displeasure in the interference, but less than Nyx had anticipated.

Nothing could really be done until they reached Redcliffe, however. The group had so far experienced no trouble along the road. The weather had been kind to them and there were far fewer bandits than they thought to expect. They were making great time. But trouble could not be evaded forever.

It started when an arrow just barely missed Nyx, striking the ground and sinking deep. Leliana fumbled, quickly drawing her bow and pointing one of her own arrows in the direction of fire. Alistair readied his shield, stepping in front of Nyx. Morrigan cast a protective spell around herself as Sten took up his sword.

Another arrow flew from the trees, but Alistair deflected it. Twice it had nearly struck Nyx.

“Reveal yourself!” Nyx called out. She drew her blade as well, ready for a fight.

“I think I see them,” Leliana said, just loud enough for Nyx to hear. “Should I…?”

Nyx held out a hand, and shook her head. She didn’t want to retaliate until she knew how many there were. It could be one person, but it could also be dozens, lying in wait to ambush them.

“What cowardice,” Morrigan sneered. “Striking from the trees where you cannot be seen.”

“I do not wish to harm the rest of you!” a woman’s voice echoed from concealment. “The woman with the sword is the only one I’m after. The rest of you are free to go.”

“Friend of yours?” Alistair said.

Nyx wasn’t sure. The voice was oddly familiar, but difficult to place. With her memories mixed together, the voices she knew became harder to summon up. Nyx’s eyes narrowed, squinting into the leaves to find the assailant.

“Who are you?” Nyx asked.

“Come closer and maybe you’ll see,” the woman taunted.

“Are you alone?” Nyx said.

“You want answers? Step forward.”

Unless one of them took the chance and put themselves in the open, it was a stalemate. Nyx knew the attacker wouldn’t dare to put herself at risk. Unless Nyx did something, they could be there forever. It would be simpler to order Leliana to fire, but after sparing so many lives, Nyx refused to take one just because it would be easier.

She kept her sword in front of her, the blade serving to deflect most of the fire. This person didn’t have the best aim, from what Nyx could tell, so she felt safe taking the chance of walking out from behind Alistair’s shield. He called for her to come back, but Nyx would not listen.

“I’m willing to talk,” Nyx said. “Whatever problem you have with me, perhaps we can work this out.” Maybe Howe had realized her body was missing among the dead at Highever, and sent an assassin? But the only assassin she had actually known was Zevran.

“I’m not,” the woman said. She released another arrow. Nyx managed to protect herself with the blade.

“Please. Show me who you are,” Nyx asked.

The woman paused, then said, “I suppose it would be a more satisfactory death if you know why I have to kill you.”

She fell from the high up branch she’d been resting on, landing with bent knees. Nyx’s blood ran cold. The red hair, the turquoise eyes, and the bold vallaslin on tan skin were all too familiar. Unlike the first time they had met, the woman now had pointed ears. Hera had not died after all.

“You’re...alive?” Nyx breathed.

“No thanks to you,” Hera said. Her body was tensed in pure fury. She lifted her bow up again, with a clear shot at Nyx. “You know why I’m here.”

“Please, give me a chance to explain. If you kill me the same mistakes will happen all over again,” Nyx said.

“I will not give you the time to lie to me again,” Hera said.

“No lies. I swear it. You deserve that. You deserve more than that. Please,” Nyx begged.

Hera looked around at Nyx’s other companions, all ready to strike. All they needed was an excuse. There was no way she could kill Nyx here. She was defended. Hera lowered her arrow. Her look had not lost its cold fire.

“I am outnumbered,” Hera said. “Fine.”

“Not here,” Nyx said. She didn’t dare glance back at Alistair. “Just us two.”

“Oh, so you _can_ feel shame. I’m impressed,” Hera said. “I don’t see why I should afford you that. But clearly you love your deception.”

“It’s not…” Nyx said. She wanted to defend herself, to deny the claims Hera made, but it was true. She just couldn’t let Alistair know the truth. Not before he at least knew her well enough to understand why Nyx had done the ritual. Nyx hadn’t noticed Morrigan moving to stand beside her until she spoke.

“She has her reasons,” Morrigan said. “Believe it or not, she is needed. ‘Twould be unwise to kill one of the last Grey Wardens alive in Ferelden.”

“You don’t know what she’s done,” Hera growled.

“Yes, she does,” Nyx said. “Please, Hera. I don’t deserve a chance. I know that. Just let me try.”

“Do you know how terrifying it was to wake up and feel like you’re the wrong person?” Hera said. “I remember the pain he put me through. I remember it every time I close my eyes to sleep. I followed you there, trusted you…”

“Nyx,” Alistair called from behind, “what is she talking about?”

Nyx was shaking. The world was closing in around her. She deserved this. She deserved to be hated for what she’d done. But she couldn’t take it if it came from Alistair. She couldn’t stand it if he despised her.

She stumbled forward. Morrigan was pushing her and Hera into the woods. Morrigan shouted behind her, insisting that the others wait for them to return. Alistair tried to argue, but Morrigan interrupted and shut him down before he could even truly begin.

“Let go of me!” Hera yelled.

They’d reached a very small clearing, surrounded by a canopy of trees. Morrigan finally stopped, releasing her grip on Hera and moving her hand from Nyx’s back. Morrigan placed her hands on her hips and stood solidly in the way between them and the road.

“Talk,” Morrigan commanded.

Hera suddenly found she had nothing else to say. She’d imagined Nyx being scary, evil, and simple. It would be so easy to make her the enemy and eliminate her. But the woman in front of her was so small.

Morrigan nudged Nyx. She was the one who’d wanted to talk. After Morrigan had gone out of her way to keep Alistair and the others from finding out the truth, Nyx owed it to her to speak to Hera. Nyx owed it to Hera. Nyx owed it to herself.

“I...I just wanted to save him,” Nyx said. She was already starting to cry. She wiped her eyes roughly. “At first, I was just going to find a way to go back to keep Alistair alive. But I was selfish. I didn’t just want him to live. I wanted to keep him. I shouldn’t have...I shouldn’t…” She was hyperventilating.

“Stop it!” Hera shouted. She took Nyx by the shoulders and shook her. “Just tell me why. Why did you take my life from me?!”

Nyx couldn’t speak. She could hardly breathe. It was only then that she heard the barking. Perseus must have followed them. Nyx lowered herself towards the ground and found him, wrapping an arm around him and petting him with her free hand. Perseus pushed the top of his head into her chest, whining softly. Hera had backed away once the mabari ran at them.

“He’s...bonded to you,” Hera said. “I was right. I woke up among the Dalish and you must have been at Highever. With my family.”

“I wanted to save them,” Nyx choked out the words through her sobs. “But I didn’t remember until it was too late. I’m sorry.”

Hera stood frozen. “You knew Tamlen before, didn’t you?”

Nyx nodded.

“He’s gone, too,” Hera said. She bit her lip, thinking hard for a long moment before speaking again. “Did they feel like your family?”

Nyx looked up. It seemed like an odd question but… “Yes. They still do.”

“It’s the same,” Hera said softly, looking away. “For me, I mean. I know everything about the Dalish, more than I ever knew before. The Keeper, Ashalle, Merrill, Hahren Paivel, Master Ilen...all of them felt like my family. It should have been your life. Instead it was mine.” Finally, she looked Nyx in the eye. “Did you know what he was going to do? That maleficar?”

“No,” Nyx admitted, “but I suspected he might kill you.”

Hera scoffed. That wasn’t reassuring, but it was honest.

“I thought...I actually thought you had died,” Nyx said. “I had no idea you had come back, too.”

“We aren’t the only ones,” Hera said. “He’s after you. I’m surprised he hasn’t found you already, with the power he wields.”

“This is the Changeling I have heard so much about?” Morrigan said, raising a brow.

“Is that what he calls himself?” Hera asked, turning from Morrigan back to Nyx.

Nyx nodded.

“He became an abomination. He wants you, but I don’t know what he intends to do once he finds you. He...kept me from getting infected with the taint. He was there when Tamlen touched the mirror, which was the exact moment my memories returned fully. Then he asked me where you were. I suspected you might be at Highever, but I didn’t want to risk him hurting anyone there. Of course, by then I imagine Howe had already betrayed us. Regardless, I told him I just didn’t know.”

“I’m amazed he didn’t kill you right there,” Morrigan said. “Perhaps he has been weakened. It would explain why he hasn’t come for you yet. He is buying his time until he can kill you easily. Or...whatever it is he intends to do with you.”

Nyx was still clinging to Perseus’ fur. Her cheeks had the pulled feeling of dried tears. The shock had not subsided, but it had changed from overpowering fear to a feeling of numbness. Perseus licked her cheek, whining again. Nyx rubbed his head. She had to stay present. There was a lot left to be done.

“What do you wish to do?” Nyx asked Hera.

“You didn’t finish telling me everything,” Hera said. “Why did you need me? To become me?”

“You were the noblewoman who Duncan would take with him. I needed to be human and noble, and I needed to become a Warden again,” Nyx said.

“I understand the Grey Warden aspect. But being a noble wouldn’t give you much more power or respect, after what you’d done,” Hera said.

“But it would give me the chance to remain by the side of the would-be king,” Nyx said.

“She means Alistair. The idiot with the shield,” Morrigan said. Of all the things she’d been able to understand, Nyx’s love for the man was not among them. She remained patient with the idea, at least.

“He’s the bastard of the late King Maric?” Hera said, a look of utter disbelief on her face. She’d heard the rumors, but to see it for herself was something else.

“Yes, and he was going to be king. But he died facing the Archdemon. I intend to make sure that does not happen again,” Nyx said.

“Does he have to be king? Queen Anora...well, I suppose she’s not queen anymore. But she is eligible for the throne,” Hera noted.

“And what good did she do? For the people who are hurting? For the elves? For the poor?” Nyx said. She was starting to stand, the shock subsiding. Her legs still shook, but there was power enough to put her weight on them. “Anora was raised behind thick stone walls in fine silk dresses. Anora knows nothing of the world that has not been fed to her since she was a child. She is smart, but does not feel for her people. Alistair has all that she lacks, and the ability to rule can yet be taught.”

“I see you’ve thought a lot about this,” Hera said.

“I had months to think of all I would do when I succeeded in sending myself backwards in time,” Nyx said. “And I hadn’t honestly intended on becoming a noblewoman until the Changeling placed the idea in my head. Until he told me it was possible.” She looked at Perseus, patting his head again. “I just wanted Alistair to live.”

“The Changeling tempted you, then,” Hera said. “He’s a maleficar, maybe he controlled your mind and made you do it?”

“No,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “I did it myself. I wanted to be a noble so I wouldn’t lose him. I _liked_ the idea of being his queen. I wanted it, and I was willing to…” she swallowed, “...to let you die for it.”

Hera’s eye twitched. Her hand, still clutching her bow, tensed around the ironbark.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. If you’re looking for a good reason for what I did, there is nothing other than selfishness. I suggest you stop trying,” Nyx said. “But Morrigan is right. The Grey Wardens are still needed to defeat the Blight. If you must kill me for what I’ve done, I beg of you, let me end the Blight first. Alistair is strong, but he cannot do this alone and stay alive. He would die again, and all of this would be for nothing.”

Nyx watched as Hera thought this through. Hera’s jaw tensed and she bit the inside of her lip. After nearly a minute, she sighed, looking downwards, and lifted her face again to look Nyx in the eye.

“Alright. That much I will agree to. But to do that, I will need to go with you,” Hera said.

“Oh good, someone who wants you dead wants to join us,” Morrigan said, throwing her hands up. She had always been one for dramatics.

“I’m no fool. The Wardens end the Blight. That’s how it goes, right? I mean, there must be a reason they’ve been the only ones to kill the Archdemon in the past,” Hera said. She noticed the impressed looks on the other women’s faces. “What? I read a lot. Castles get boring.”

“I agree,” Nyx said. It was odd, but in a way they now shared each others pasts. Pieces of them were entangled, tied together for good.

“So? I can go with you?” Hera asked.

“Yes,” Nyx said.

“And what of your secret?” Morrigan pointed out. “Would she tell them all the moment we return?”

“Is this woman the only one you’ve told?” Hera asked Nyx, pointing at Morrigan.

“She needed to know, for reasons I can’t explain,” Nyx said. “Nothing bad, just private.”

“Your record of dangerous secrets doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence in that matter,” Hera said.

“That is expected. Can you promise us that you won’t tell them? Any of them?” Nyx asked.

“They deserve to know,” Hera said.

“They do. But not yet.”

“You’d trust nothing but my word? I could wait for the right moment and betray you.”

“As could I,” Nyx said. “But I doubt you would say that if it was truly your intention.”

“Unless I’m cleverly trying to trick you,” Hera said with a nasty smirk.

“Then I suppose I just have to trust you not to tell them,” Nyx admitted.

Hera nodded. “And I won’t. Because they do deserve to know, but you ought to be the one to tell them. Because you need to face them and take responsibility for your actions.”

With an agreement reached, they started back towards the road. Morrigan still did not trust Hera - in fact, she said as much on the return trip - but would tolerate her presence if Nyx wished it. Of course, that was not without the promise that at the first sign that Hera intended to betray them, that Morrigan wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

Alistair had been sitting while they waited, but shot right up as Perseus trotted out from the trees, followed by the three women. Nyx found she could not look him in the eye. Before Morrigan had forced them away, Hera had said some pretty damning stuff about Nyx. There was bound to be some suspicion among them after that.

“Everyone, this is Hera Mahariel,” Nyx said. “She’s agreed to join us to defeat the Blight.”

That was clearly not the outcome they had been expecting. Nyx hadn’t expected it either, but it was an agreeable solution. Up until the point where she’d given Hera permission to kill her after the Blight ended. That, however, was over a year away. A lot could happen in that time.

That was all that was said for the moment. Hera walked beside Leliana, who asked loads of questions about the Dalish. It was a conversation Nyx remembered having with her before. She was proud to hear Hera challenge Leliana’s viewpoint in the same way Nyx once had. Leliana would not get over her prejudices in one conversation, but anything that got her to rethink her point of view was a start towards something.

Between Alistair and Nyx, however, there was notable tension. It was odd. They had become so used to chatting as they walked. Now both of them were silent. Even Morrigan seemed more interested in teasing Sten for the moment than talking with Alistair. Perseus snorted, expressing his disapproval. He remained between Nyx and Alistair the whole time, trying to encourage some communication.

They set camp that night, estimating only a day or two more on the road before Redcliffe. Hera had her own bedroll, which made sleeping arrangements easier. Every single one of them was exhausted, eating dinner quickly because it meant they could go to bed sooner. Bodahn welcomed the new member of the group and helped Hera pick out a new pair of boots, as hers had been worn down.

Nyx still wanted to know what had happened after Tamlen disappeared this time. Had Hera gone back to the clan at all? Would they see Tamlen, transformed into a ghoul again? And what of the eluvian? Nyx prayed to the Creators that no one else from clan Sabrae had found the ruins and touched the accursed thing.

She laid back, wishing to put the whole day behind her. There were other things to worry about. Saving Redcliffe came first. Last time, she had been unable to save Mayor Murdock. That was another life. Nyx wanted to mark reminders somehow, the numbers of lives she had extended, even if it was only for a day more. It would never outweigh the lives she took and it could never undo what happened to Hera, but it could remind Nyx that something good was left in her. She wasn’t certain she could honestly go on without that.

“Nyx?” Alistair said.

She turned her head towards him, then sat up.

“Hey, there you are. You were spaced out, for a moment,” he said. Alistair was smiling, which put Nyx at ease. He didn’t hate her. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ears. She was still bringing it further back than necessary, habitually accounting for the elven ears that were no longer present. “I was just thinking.”

“What about?” Alistair asked.

“How to quantify a good person.”

“I don’t know if that’s even possible,” Alistair said with a light chuckle. “Do you think the Maker has a big scale with the bad things you’ve done on one side and the good on the other?”

“He could,” she said. “But then how many good things would you need to outweigh the bad? What if, in the past, you did one really huge bad thing that’s so heavy, you can’t do enough good to fix it?”

“That would have to be _really_ bad,” Alistair said.

“It was,” Nyx said.

“Is this about what that elven girl was saying earlier? She spoke like she’d met you before,” Alistair said. “And whatever it is that happened...well, she was trying to kill you over it. I didn’t think you were capable of making a person that angry.”

“You haven’t known me very long,” Nyx said.

“Yes, but what I do know about you doesn’t add up to what I saw today,” Alistair said. “Look, I won’t make you tell me. I just wanted to be sure you were alright. That she’s not going to be standing over you with a knife when I wake up.”

“Hera won’t try to kill me again. That much I know,” Nyx said. “We have...history. Just think of it as a huge misunderstanding.”

“Riiiight,” Alistair said. “Gotcha. Well, we might not know each other too well yet, but I understand having a messy past. I just want you to feel comfortable talking to me. About anything.” Perhaps it was Nyx’s imagination, but she thought that in the dim light of the campfire, she’d spotted a blush on his cheeks.

“I’d like that, too. From you, I mean,” Nyx said. Her own blush was definitely not imagined. “I swear, I will tell you about what happened between Hera and me one day. Just not yet.”

“When you’re ready, you know where to find me,” Alistair said.

Nyx nodded. She was able to rest easier with that thought in her mind. In the morning, things were not completely back to normal, but they were certainly better.

Hera wouldn’t get too close to Nyx, nor Nyx to Hera, and the others respected that neither of them wanted to talk about it. Alistair and Nyx were back to being nearly inseparable. No one else asked about the drama of the previous day for the time being. Redcliffe was on the horizon, and Nyx was preparing herself for what was to come when they entered town.


	8. Living Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of Redcliffe, a little more Hera, and a wee bit of fluff.

When Alistair pulled her aside, Nyx put on her actress face. She had to pretend like never before that she was shocked at what he was telling her. Any less than complete astonishment would give her away. Acting surprised at news you already knew - especially something big like “my father was King Maric” - was the most difficult role to play out.

“...which made Cailan my half-brother, I suppose,” Alistair finished saying.

“That’s...a lot to take in. Is there a reason you didn’t mention this earlier?” Nyx said.

“I’m not sure if you knew this, but people tend to treat you differently when you’re related to royalty. Even if you are a bastard. They either resented me for it or coddled me, and I’m not sure which was worse. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I just didn’t want you to do the same, so I was going to keep it from you as long as possible. I’m sorry,” Alistair said.

“I’ve got my own secrets, Alistair. I understand completely,” Nyx said.

“Well, um, that’s good then. I mean, it never meant anything to me. They kept me secret so I couldn’t ‘threaten Cailan’s rule.’ Little did they know I have no interest in being king. At all,” Alistair said. “Anyway, that’s it. Just thought you should know about it.”

“Anything else I should know?” Nyx asked. “No sixth toe on your right foot or something?”

Alistair laughed. “Nothing like that. Just an unholy love of fine cheeses and a slight obsession with my hair. Mostly the prince thing, though.”

“Should I call you Prince Alistair from now on?” Nyx teased.

“Please don’t. I may have just had a heart attack from hearing that. I’m no heir, I have no titles or power or anything. If anyone should take the throne, it’s Arl Eamon. But if he’s really as sick as we’ve heard… Oh, I do not want to think about that,” he said.

Nyx wanted to encourage him, nudge him towards the idea of being king. As things were, she was still too distant. The Landsmeet was ages away and Ferelden was still being torn apart by both darkspawn and Loghain. She had to hold her tongue.

“So there you have it. Now can we move on, and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some... nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens,” Alistair said.

“You’re here with me,” Nyx said. “I think that makes _me_ the lucky one.”

“I...oh,” Alistair said. There was definitely no trick of the light this time. That was a blush on Alistair’s face, accompanied by a goofy smile. “Glad to be here, then.”

Luck had nothing to do with it. Nyx had fought to win him back. Now they could stand together and smile, open up about themselves, and move forward. She was starting to accept the slow pace they were taking. Actually, she found she rather liked it.

These were moments she remembered so fondly, but she had forgotten little details. The small things Alistair did when he became flustered. For a moment after they talked, he was a little clumsy and distracted. Nyx couldn’t help but giggle quietly to herself. Alistair was never suave or debonair. He was sweet and genuine, and made her smile like no one else could.

Redcliffe was already in quite a bad shape. The group was brought to Bann Teagan almost immediately and informed of all that they knew. Morrigan insisted that they should get into the castle first. Nyx wanted to agree, but they hadn’t the power by themselves to solve the crisis with Connor and his demon. They would need aid from the Circle. For the moment, the best thing they could do was defend the city from the night’s attack.

Nyx moved quickly. She talked to Murdock only briefly, knowing that they needed to go first to the smith. With a promise to help the man’s daughter, Nyx was reminded of the young boy hiding in a closet in his house. They found him without trouble and was sent to his sister in the Chantry as soon as they got him out of hiding. Next was the unpleasant dwarf.

Dwyn was hiding away again, but with Leliana’s help in picking the lock and a few well-meaning threats, the dwarf got the message and lead his goons outside to join the fight. Nyx stopped in the store to make sure the oil was still there as she remembered, then checked back in with Murdock to let him know how things were going. The mayor was impressed by how efficient Nyx had been, as they still had hours to prepare. He wasn’t the only one.

“You’ve been very focused today,” Alistair noted.

“I just want to be sure we’ve got all the help we can get,” Nyx said. She was leading them up towards the tavern. There they could restock some supplies and trade in any weapons or armor that were too worn to be of much use anymore. She also vaguely remembered a suspicious elf and a woman who hated working there because of the owner. Perhaps something could be done about them, as well.

“It must help that you already know what you’re doing,” Hera said, with thinly veiled hostility.

Alistair just tilted his head in confusion at this comment. Nyx could think of nothing to say, so she remained silent. There were no words that would soothe Hera and Nyx really didn’t want to get her back to a point of shouting. Whatever Hera wanted to instigate, Nyx would not play along. She couldn’t think of herself as being “above it,” because Hera’s anger was of a righteous kind. Instead, she was more afraid of what it might bring out. Silence was preferable.

Morrigan was going to scold her later, anyway, when they had a moment. She didn’t want Nyx to let Hera feel like she had power over them. Nyx would insist it had nothing to do with power, to which Morrigan would insist that “of course it does,” and to think otherwise was naive.

The elf in the tavern had, in fact, been a spy. Nyx had been unable to weasel answers out of him before, but now she caught him in his lies. With the right words, however, she also convinced him to do some good for the townspeople and fight at their side. He didn’t look thrilled by the idea, but it was better than them just killing him, which was what he’d feared at their approach.

Bella was the woman working at the bar. The man running it was a coward and a sleaze who planned to hide out while the rest of the men his age would be out there fighting. Nyx refused to let that slide. Within a few minutes, he was going outside to join the fighting, having handed the business over to Bella in case he didn’t make it through the night.

Hera had given her bow, which was of fine Dalish make, to Leliana, insisting that she preferred to use her daggers anyway. The local armorer had managed to modify a piece he’d been asked to repair so that it could fit Sten, who had been stuck in plain clothing since their departure from Lothering. He seemed thankful for the armor, as far as any of them could tell.

With nothing left to do and her companions properly armored, Nyx stood with the soldiers, waiting for the dark.

Despite Nyx knowing what was to come, her blood still ran cold as the first of the undead horde stumbled through the flames. Leliana struck it in the head, and it went down without a fight. The knights seemed optimistic for a moment, but when the rest of the monsters followed, they realized that what these creatures lacked in strength, they made up for in numbers.

They cleaved through five, then ten, then twenty. The bodies were starting to pile up. It was hard not to look at the slowly rotting faces of these things and wonder who they once may have been. Nyx remembered the people standing at the ready just outside the Chantry, unprepared for the numbers they would face.

“Morrigan, Hera, and Sten! I need you to go down and reinforce the rest of the barricades,” Nyx commanded, pausing for only a moment to cut down another undead. “Morrigan, do you know any healing magic?”

“I know only a very simple spell, meant for small wounds. Nothing that would assist with anything these creatures would cause,” Morrigan said. She didn’t look pleased about being sent off.

“Try to take care of the less experienced fighters. And tell Murdock not to rush at the horde and exhaust himself!” Nyx called, hoping no one thought it odd for mentioning the mayor specifically.

The three of them left. Hera likely gave Nyx a nasty look, but it went unnoticed as Nyx was busy with another group of undead that pushed through the fire barrier. She swung her sword with what force she could muster, killing three of the monsters at once.

Nyx had to keep her eyes off of their faces. They looked like they were in perpetual agony as they came at the group again and again. It was all she could hope that these people now rested at the Maker’s side.

There were only a few of them left. Leliana had run out of arrows, and was now hanging back with twin daggers in her hands, only striking when absolutely necessary. Alistair was breathing heavily, trying to deflect attacks more than he was attempting further retaliation. Nyx was always ready to assist either of her friends, sending Perseus to Alistair’s side to keep him safe.

Still, she had to admit her own arms were screaming. She was starting to miss the days when she fought from a distance with a bow in her hands. The heavy sword she now wielded was brutal and effective, but wore her out.

They stood waiting, waiting for the next wave of undead to assail their ranks. But then they slowly started to realize that the light they noticed was not just that of the fire in front of them. Dawn was breaking and the battle was done.

Nyx dropped her heavy blade and fell back to sitting, ignoring the slight ache as her hips hit the ground. With luck, only good news would come from the group she’d sent to fight with Murdock and his men.

“Thank you for sending your companions to assist us. I hate to admit it, but we really needed them there,” Murdock said. “Even with Dwyn and those other men, it was clear we were heavily outnumbered. Still, no one died tonight. This town owes you a great debt, Warden, for all you’ve done for us.”

“I’m afraid we’re not done yet,” Nyx said. She stared up at the castle, fully aware that more horrors awaited within.

“Right, we’ve got Arl Eamon to worry about. We should speak to Bann Teagan again,” Alistair said. He was already making his way back up to the windmill, where Teagan had promised to meet them. Nyx hurried behind him, but felt a hand on her shoulder, keeping her back.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Hera said loudly, more a declaration than a question of permission.

Nyx allowed herself to be lead away from the rest of the group. Hera looked frustrated. Whatever she needed was best said out of earshot of the others. Nyx glanced behind her, waving her hand and shaking her head to indicate that they needn’t worry. Most of them were just confused, but Morrigan was crossing her arms.

“Did he die last time?” Hera asked once they were alone.

“I...who?” Nyx said.

“Murdock. Last night you told me to keep him from running into the fight. So I did. He was charging in full force, but I told him he needed to maintain his stamina to face their numbers. You knew he would be impulsive. Did he die?” Hera said.

Nyx swallowed. “Yes,” she admitted.

Hera examined Nyx up and down, thinking hard. Nyx wanted to ask what was wrong, but said nothing. In the end, Hera simply nodded, and started walking back. Whatever she had decided on, she was not sharing her thoughts with Nyx. They rejoined the group, and Hera gestured for Alistair to lead the way up the hill.

Just as Nyx remembered, within a few moments of reaching Bann Teagan, Lady Isolde ran up, her heavy Orlesian accent emphasizing her panic. She was suspicious of the strange group Nyx lead, and understandably so. Isolde was dodgy when anyone asked questions about the castle.

“I don’t know what’s causing it! I think it’s the mage we captured. He must have caused all of this. Please, you have to help me, Teagan!” Isolde cried.

“Lady Isolde, these are Grey Wardens. If anyone is equipped to deal with this-” Teagan began.

“No! It has to be you. Just you. He won’t allow anyone else to enter the castle,” Isolde insisted.

“‘He?’ Who are you talking about?” Alistair asked.

“I...is that Alistair? What are you doing here?!” Isolde said.

“I told you, my lady, he’s a Warden. Who is controlling the castle?” Teagan asked.

“I don’t know, the demon. I fear for my husband, for my Connor. Please, Teagan. It will kill them if I don’t do as it says,” Isolde said.

Nyx knew she was omitting the truth. Last time she’d sensed there was something more to what Lady Isolde said and now she understood why. Nyx had been so angry with her before, but given time, Nyx couldn’t say for certain that she would do any differently. Isolde did not know that Connor could yet be saved as well as the Arl.

“Go, Teagan,” Nyx said. “You said you had another plan. A way in?”

“Yes, a secret entrance through the windmill. It’s an old underground passage. Take this signet ring, it will unlock the door. And be careful, there is no telling how many monsters are still inside,” Teagan said.

“We can handle ourselves,” Nyx reassured him. “We’re Grey Wardens. Fighting dangerous creatures is what we do.”

“Mostly it’s darkspawn, though,” Alistair said.

It wasn’t long before they were deep in the bowels of the castle. Cobwebs stuck to nearly every corner, and Perseus kept sneezing from all the dust of the old passageway. Leliana was making noises of disgust as they traversed the hall. Nyx was trying to focus on what came next. She couldn’t remember the mage’s name, but knew he was a maleficar and the man who poisoned the Arl.

She’d not wanted to kill him before, but feared that if he stayed, he would be executed regardless of what she said. Thus, she’d allowed the mage to run. The complexities of shem politics and law were lost on her, but she knew of humans and their brutality. Nyx did not want to trust the life of the maleficar to those who would see him die and smile at the result. That was before, however, and now Nyx knew Arl Eamon was a rational man.

When they reached the dungeons, there were already undead, reaching between the bars of one of the cells. Nyx could hear a soft whimpering from within. Leliana began firing arrows at the creatures, getting their attention. Their heads slowly turned before they started a slow and stumbling walk towards Nyx and her companions.

Morrigan cast a fireball while they were far enough away, blowing a few of them back and setting the rest aflame. Nyx and Alistair charged first, taking out those closest to them. Hera was quick, falling to the shadows to slide behind the undead who were now gurgling furiously at the Wardens. Her sneak attack took out those furthest from the others, while Sten charged in to dispatch the remaining enemies.

“Thank the Maker you’re here!” the mage cried, scrambling towards the bars. “But...wait. Who are you?”

“We could ask you the same question,” Hera said.

“My name is Jowan, previously a mage of the Circle,” he said, lowering his head.

“Previously?” Hera repeated.

“Wait, you’re the one Lady Isolde mentioned. You caused this!” Alistair shouted.

“No! I swear I didn’t. That’s not why the Arlessa locked me in here, you have to believe me,” Jowan pleaded.

Nyx stepped forward. They would get nowhere unless Jowan was given a chance to explain what he knew. Hera stepped aside when she saw Nyx approach. This was something Hera would rather watch, to see what Nyx would do next.

“Then what was your crime?” Nyx asked.

“I bet Lady Isolde didn’t mention that I was tutoring her son, did she? That was how I got in. But I was also here because I’d been hired to poison the Arl. I think...I think the man was Teryn Loghain. I recognized him from pictures,” Jowan said.

“Loghain?” Alistair said, a scowl forming on his face. “How long has he been planning all of this?”

“Yes, I poisoned the Arl, but that was the only thing I did. This curse, whatever is raising the dead, it isn’t me,” Jowan said.

“But why did the Arlessa hire you?” Hera asked, stepping forward again.

“Her son was starting to show signs of magic. She needed someone outside the Circle to teach him. She just wanted him to know enough to conceal his abilities. She didn’t know what I intended to do. She didn’t even ask about how I was a mage living outside the Circle, she just wanted a tutor for her son,” Jowan explained.

“I can’t believe it. Little Connor, a mage?” Alistair said, putting a hand on his head. “How is it the templars haven’t found you already?”

“I destroyed my phylactery. I was already planning to run, but when they caught me using blood magic, I had to escape,” Jowan said. “Please, I haven’t lied to you once. It’s possible that the Arlessa’s son accidentally summoned a demon. A young mage doesn’t have strong control over his abilities, it can happen.”

“I believe you,” Nyx said.

Alistair looked at her. “I’m not sure I do. Regardless, we have to decide what to do with him.”

“I-I’d like to help, if you’d allow me to. If I can in any way atone for the things I’ve done, I’d like to be given that chance,” Jowan pleaded.

“He could prove to be useful,” Morrigan noted. “In any case, I see no reason to kill him when he is defenseless.”

“He _poisoned Arl Eamon._ I don’t trust him,” Alistair said.

“Let him stay here, then. His fate can be decided once we take care of this demon,” Nyx insisted.

“Alright, yeah,” Alistair said slowly. “That sounds...reasonable. Let’s go.”

They made their way through the lower levels of the castle, shocked by the number of undead that still remained even after the battle from the night before. They even encountered a few Shades. If Nyx didn’t know better, she truly would have suspected the maleficar to be responsible for this mess. Yet, Jowan’s guess was more correct than he realized.

After rescuing the blacksmith’s daughter, they charged up the stairs, leading out into the courtyard in front of the castle. More undead awaited, as well as a mighty Revenant, but the group was prepared. Morrigan took out a number of the undead by herself, while Leliana supported with a few well-placed arrows. Hera and Perseus ran wildly around them, confusing the enemy and keeping them distracted for Alistair and Sten to cleave through their ranks.

However, Nyx had her eyes on the Revenant. It swirled its sword over its head, drawing Alistair towards it with an unseen force. Nyx gripped the pommel of her blade and charged towards the Revenant. Alistair threw up his shield, blocking the creature’s swing. It was focused on him, giving Nyx the chance to strike. Her sword struck the Revenant’s armor, damaging it and causing the thing to stumble sideways.

It shifted targets, recognizing Nyx as a more immediate threat. Apparently, Morrigan had noticed the fight, and sapped energy from the Revenant to weaken it. Nyx lifted her sword to meet the Revenant’s next attack, the clang of metal reverberating in her ears. She managed to lean into the blade, pushing the creature backwards.

Alistair was now back on his feet, charging towards the enemy. It fell to the ground with a bash from Alistair’s shield. Nyx lifted her sword above her head. She brought it crashing down on the Revenant, finding the weak point between its helmet and breastplate. Its head rolled, disconnected from the body.

With that done, they were ready to go inside. Nyx wasn’t looking forward to what came next.

Teagan was dancing around and grinning like a fool. Connor was laughing, though he did so in the demon’s warped voice. Isolde stood miserably beside him, slumped over and refusing to look at her brother-in-law. At the sound of metal on stone, the heavier armor Sten and Alistair sported making sneaking impossible, Lady Isolde stood at attention. However, so did Connor.

“Stop, fool. Now heel,” Connor commanded. The demonic voice was chilling. “Well, it seems I have guests. But I didn’t invite you to join in my party, and you have been breaking all of my toys. So why have you come here?”

“We’ve come to see Arl Eamon,” Nyx answered.

“Is that so? Then you’re more of father’s well-wishers. I appreciate your concern, but you see, father is resting,” Connor said. “I rule as Arl in his stead, and will soon take this whole kingdom for myself. So...if… _ungh…_ It hurts. I don’t want to do this to them. Please stop, I just want...just…”

“Oh, Connor, my boy!” Isolde cried. She moved to hug her son, but Connor pushed her away.

“No! Fool woman,” Connor said. “You’re pathetic. You did nothing while father lied in bed, sick and dying. I have kept him alive all on my own.”

“This is what you didn’t tell us?” Hera said. “Your son is an abomination!”

“No, no,” Isolde said, weeping.

“Be quiet! I’m getting bored,” Connor said. “Kill them.”

Guards, who had stood so still they could be mistaken as statues, moved from their places with their weapons drawn. Bann Teagan also took up a sword, his face darkening at the command. Isolde wailed, backing to the wall in fear.

“Be careful! They’re still living,” Nyx told the others. “We can’t just kill these like the monsters before!”

“I can’t believe I have to fight Bann Teagan,” Alistair murmured mournfully.

It wasn’t easy. Nyx and Sten struck the enemy with their pommels. She could hear Sten grunting in frustration, wishing he could simply carve through the men as before. Alistair left his sword in its sheath, using just his shield to incapacitate the guardsmen. Morrigan used her magic only to stun, while Leliana and Hera focused on being distractions for the others. Perseus barked loudly, then charged at Teagan, headbutting him so that he fell backwards.

Amidst the confusion, Connor ran from the room. Isolde was petrified, unable to stop him. Even if she’d tried, it was possible the patience of the demon would run out and she would be killed as well.

The guards had all fallen unconscious, struck by spells and blunt force. Bann Teagan groaned, still awake somehow. It was like a fog had been lifted from his eyes, and he could see clearly again. He sat up, and Perseus growled.

“Easy boy,” Nyx said, patting the mabari’s head. “Bann Teagan, are you alright?”

“I...feel like I’ve been asleep, yet still wide awake. He has released me from his control for now, it seems,” Teagan said. “How was Connor doing all that?”

“He is a mage,” Nyx explained. “Lady Isolde was just trying to protect him.”

“And in doing so she has endangered all of us,” Morrigan said.

“Please, he’s my son. Don’t kill him,” Isolde begged. “You all saw him. He has moments of clarity sometimes. He is no abomination.”

“’Tis true. The boy yet resists the demon within him,” Morrigan said, though her brow was still furrowed in anger. She was not a fan of tricks.

“Do you know of a way to remove the demon from his mind without killing him?” Nyx asked. Morrigan looked at her curiously. Nyx nodded. She had done this before, without losing the boy. Morrigan would be able to help.

“With enough mages, and enough lyrium, it is possible to enter the Fade and destroy the demon there. The boy will be released unharmed,” Morrigan said. “Though it is not easy,” she added under her breath.

“Then we go to the Circle,” Nyx said, before anyone else could speak. “I will not spill a child’s blood if it can be avoided.”

“The Tower is about a day’s journey across Lake Calenhad. It isn’t far,” Teagan noted.

“One of the Grey Warden treaties is for the mages, as well. I think it’s worth trying,” Alistair said.

“If you go, please hurry,” Isolde pleaded. “I do not know how long he will remain...dormant.”

“If he comes back, try to keep him entertained however you can,” Nyx said, hoping they wouldn’t need to. Last time they had been quick enough to keep him from causing any more harm, but that didn’t feel like a certainty. There were still risks in these actions, but Nyx knew they were the right ones.

♢♢♢♢♢

They had stopped to set camp before long. There was a need to hurry, but they were exhausted from all the fighting. They hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep thanks to the battle with the undead the other night and had moved straight onto a battle inside the castle after that. Perseus had fallen asleep as soon as Nyx set out her bedroll, collapsing beside it with a heavy snort. She couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics.

“Goodnight, Percy. I hope you have wonderful dreams,” Nyx cooed. Perseus snorted again in response.

“What do you think dogs dream of?” Alistair asked, setting his bedroll near hers as usual.

The only two tents they had were given to Morrigan, set up far from anyone else, and Leliana. Nyx still wasn’t sure that Sten even slept. Alistair, on the other hand, insisted he preferred sleeping in the open air.

Nyx kept forgetting to pick up a tent while they were out for supplies. She was often distracted by more life-threatening issues, and she had to admit that she liked how things were now. If Alistair had his own tent, or she had one for herself, they couldn’t have these nightly chats anymore. They were a comfort, something familiar to ground her in this second life.

“If I know Perseus, his dreams are about chasing squirrels,” Nyx said.

Hera had been sitting up, sharpening her daggers, but now she was walking towards them. She plopped her bedroll down next to Nyx’s, startling Perseus. He barked, deeply offended by this interruption from his sleep.

“Sorry, pup, it wasn’t you I meant to frighten,” Hera said.

Nyx patted his head again, trying to get her dog to settle back down. “It’s alright, Percy. Go back to sleep, now.”

“I’m surprised you’re going this far for some kid you don’t know,” Hera said, setting up her space.

“What, and you would do differently?” Alistair asked.

“No,” Hera said, “but I didn’t think she’d take the risk. Sparing the maleficar, now that sounds like you.”

Nyx couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t that she couldn’t think of the words, but she just found it impossible to speak. Perseus was lifting his head again, starting to growl. He was smart enough to recognize the venom in Hera’s voice. But Nyx kept excusing it. Hera was justified in her hate. Nyx deserved this. She deserved to hear this.

“I don’t know what kind of history you have together, but whatever you think of her, I know Nyx isn’t that sort of person,” Alistair argued. “She has been trying her best to save every life possible. You weren’t with us in Lothering.”

Nyx’s eyes went wide. She wasn’t sure she wanted this. She was grateful that Alistair was willing to defend her, but Hera could say something. He shouldn’t be involved. Not even like this.

“Then you take lives only when its to your benefit?” Hera said, her eyes fixed on Nyx. “That makes it _much_ better. Thank you for helping clarify that point, Alistair.”

Hera lifted her mostly made bedroll, moving it a few feet away from them. She’d come only to taunt Nyx, and now she was satisfied and wanted her space. She released her orange hair from the ponytail she kept it in most of the time, and settled in to sleep.

“Why do you let her talk to you like that?” Alistair whispered.

Nyx swallowed. Her mouth was so dry. “I… I once did something terrible to her. It feels like a lifetime ago, but…”

Technically, it was a lifetime ago, but it was still only a few weeks since she’d awoken in Highever with all her memories in tact. It was as if she’d been asleep as Nyx Cousland until Nyx Mahariel took over. Hera had probably been the same way. How terrified was she to wake up in a Dalish camp and remember those last moments of searing pain?

“I can never undo that,” Nyx said. She felt a tear fall from her cheek. She’d barely even noticed the water well up in her eyes. “After all I’ve done to make things better, she will always think of me as the person to make her life far worse.”

Then, she felt the warmth on her back, and Alistair’s strong arms encircling her. Nyx was torn. She had been craving his touch unlike anything else from the start, but she wasn’t sure that she still deserved kindness of this sort. Not from Alistair. She wasn’t the same Nyx he’d once fallen in love with.

It only made her cry harder. Her face fell onto his arm, her hands finding one of his and squeezing tight. Alistair’s chin rested on the top of her head.

“Maybe you can’t undo it,” Alistair said quietly, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t make up for it.”

Nyx wasn’t sure she remembered how to fix problems in a normal fashion. Without the warnings from her previous life, how would she navigate this? The thought perplexed her, but it was better than just wallowing in self-pity and regret. The past couldn’t hold all the answers, but that didn’t mean answers weren’t there to be found.

When Nyx started to calm down, Alistair released her from his grasp. She hadn’t wanted him to let go, but didn’t dare ask to be held again. Nyx turned her head to see him.

“Sorry I...I sort of did that without really thinking about it,” Alistair said when he met her eyes. “You usually seem like you like your space. I hope that wasn’t...invasive.”

Nyx shook her head, the beginnings of a smile teasing at her lips. “No, it absolutely wasn’t. You can do that again anytime,” she said.

“Oh, good,” Alistair said. “I mean, good that you weren’t offended. It’s good that you’re alright with me hugging you, but it’s not like...I mean I don’t… Maker please say something so I can stop babbling.”

Nyx laughed. “Why would I do that when you’re acting so cute?”

“ _Cute?_ Now I know what you think of me,” Alistair grumbled.

“It’s a good thing,” Nyx insisted. “Like...like a puppy.”

“That makes it even worse,” he said.

Nyx shook her head, still unable to stop giggling. “Thank you, Alistair. I mean that,” she said. She laid down, facing away from him, but turned her head back to say, “And you’re far more than just cute, but if I tell you the other things I think about you it will go to your head.”

“Oh, they definitely would,” Alistair said. She could almost hear him grinning at her.

♢♢♢♢♢

Lake Calenhad was just as deserted as Nyx remembered. Not many folks liked to stay around where the mages were housed, but there was a small tavern set up, with beds, food, ale, and supplies for travelers. Nyx wondered if mages were ever allowed visitors that weren’t in some position of power.

She suspected not. Even if they were allowed to have them, she knew that magic was feared among shemlen, so they likely never had anyone try to visit. _Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him._ Her human memory housed the Chant of Light, and now she knew it well.

The templar guarding the boat was rude as usual, but Nyx talked him into allowing them passage with reason. The boat was cramped, especially with Sten and Perseus, but somehow they all managed to fit aboard the vessel and not sink. They did, however, move quite slow.

As Nyx suspected, the troubles in the tower had begun as they had before. Somewhere inside, Wynne was struggling to keep up a barrier to protect the children, only just brought back from the brink of death by a spirit. Nyx wanted to hurry inside to help, but Knight Commander Greagoir would have to give his permission first.

“I understand that there is a Blight, but we are of no use to you anymore. The Tower has fallen to blood mages. I doubt anyone yet lives beyond the doors. We have already called for the Right of Annulment. Now we are just waiting to receive word back from the Grand Cleric,” Greagoir said.

“You’ve invoked the Right of Annulment? How can things have gotten so bad so quickly?” Alistair said.

Nyx had spoken to him only a few times of his training as a templar, but she knew he was grateful that he never truly became one. She didn’t think he could manage to kill mages just because someone told him to. Neither would Nyx.

“Please, Knight Commander. If you don’t wish to risk your men, then send us in. We’ll see if anyone is still alive and clear up the mess the maleficarum have made,” Nyx offered. Every time she had to ask permission for something she knew for a fact was possible, she wished she could just tell them that she’d done it once before.

“I don’t think you have fully grasped how dire the situation is, here,” Greagoir said. He sounded tired, rubbing his temples as he spoke. “There aren’t just dangerous mages inside, anymore, but demons and abominations as well. My men, trained templars, have been unable to see it to an end. What makes you think you will fare any differently?”

“Because we have to, ser,” Nyx said. “I trust in the strength of my companions.”

Greagoir sighed. “I must respect your resolve. Alright. But I want only a small team going in there. Once those doors close behind you, they won’t open again until I hear the order made by the First Enchanter himself, you hear me?”

Nyx nodded. Morrigan was the first to volunteer to stay behind. She wanted nothing to do with this “suicide mission.” Sten also seemed uncomfortable with the idea of helping mages, though he didn’t seem very pleased about his only company being Morrigan either. Nyx left Perseus with Sten, who whined when he realized he couldn’t go along.

“It’ll be alright, boy. You’ll see. Just keep those two from killing each other, please,” Nyx said with a small smile. It wasn’t an impossible outcome, but she wanted to believe it was at least improbable.

That left her with Alistair, Leliana, and Hera. Maybe she should have asked Sten to stay, after all. The doors closed, and they were trapped until they reached the top, where the First Enchanter was fighting to resist the influence of blood magic.

 _We will reach him in time,_ Nyx told herself. She needed the reminder. She really was not looking forward to facing a bunch of abominations again. Once more, she wasn’t sure if she should be asking Mythal or the Maker for protection against what lay ahead. Nyx prayed silently to both of them, hoping it didn’t somehow offend either of the gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um, I feel like I should apologize for posting this a few days late. I have two excuses, one actual one and one that you might be able to relate to. First, I had a week of practicing for the short set my family was playing at Relay for Life because hi yes we're musicians and that's a normal thing for us. We had only a week to prepare so it was a little hectic.
> 
> Second, I managed to, about a week ago now, get DAI to work on my computer which I still think is some kind of miracle. So I've been a bit...obsessive. It doesn't help that I've been working out plans for when I get to writing that part, including a title and character development. But as I said, I can safely assume you like Dragon Age and can at least somewhat understand the obsession.
> 
> I can't promise this won't happen again but I'll at least try a little harder to make sure that it doesn't.


	9. Could Have Been/Could Never Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take some creative liberties with the writing of magic and creatures in this, just so you know. It’s nothing huge, more just small changes to make it unique. You'll mostly only notice if you follow the books.

Wynne was in the middle of vanquishing a demon of rage when the group approached. Nyx was glad she spoke to Wynne at Ostagar, because she could see the recognition in the old woman’s eyes. It would be easier for her to trust their good intentions since she knew that Nyx and Alistair were Grey Wardens.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Wynne said. “Even we were told that all Grey Wardens perished at Ostagar, but I am pleased to see that was untrue. What you are doing here, however, remains a mystery. Has Greagoir sent you to finish us off for him?” If Greagoir sounded tired, Wynne sounded like she hadn’t slept for a year.

“He has sent for the Right of Annulment, but they’ve not yet received it,” Alistair told her.

“Then he truly thinks all hope is lost,” Wynne said. She exhaled heavily. “I have kept us safe here, with that barrier up ahead. Tell me, what is it you intend by coming here? Would the Knight Commander open his doors for you?”

Nyx shook her head. “He’ll only act if the First Enchanter is there,” she said.

“Then we must hope Irving yet lives,” Wynne said.

“We’ve come to help you, if we can. We need the assistance of the mages for the Blight, and I would rather not see the Tower fall,” Nyx said.

“I agree. Then, will you help me? The mages cannot help you unless you first help us,” Wynne said.

“Of course,” Nyx said, nodding once.

“Wynne, are you sure you should go in your...condition?” one of the younger mages, Petra, asked.

“I told you already, Petra, I’m fine. I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. You and the others need to make sure the children are kept safe,” Wynne instructed.

“Yes, I know, but…” Petra started.

“It’s alright, Petra,” Wynne said.

Wynne lowered the barrier at Nyx’s word, and the five of them walked further into the Tower. They were faced almost immediately with a group of abominations, their bodies misshapen and disturbing. The whole place smelled of rot.

Wynne and Nyx began the fighting without hesitation, but the other three paused, staring in horror at the creatures in front of them. Alistair was the first to break the spell of terror, reminding himself that he’d faced many darkspawn just as hideous as these things. Leliana was second, moving out of the same fear that froze her. If any of the monsters got too close, she was in trouble as an archer. Hera could not move, even for a moment after the first group of abominations was cleared.

“Hera?” Leliana said gently, still standing next to her.

Hera shook free when her name was called, snapping back to attention. She looked around her quickly, eyes landing on Nyx.

“What...were those?” Hera asked.

“Abominations,” Nyx said. Hadn’t she already seen the Changeling?

“They...they were different than he was,” Hera said. “Do they all look different? Do they change based on the demon? Or does it have to do with the person they inhabit?”

“Child, have you faced an abomination before?” Wynne asked.

Hera looked to Wynne quickly, but snapped her gaze back to Nyx after just a moment.

“Yes,” she said. “Just one.”

“The first time I saw an abomination, my blood turned to ice,” Wynne said, moving towards Hera. She placed a hand on Hera’s shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort. “It was months before the nightmares stopped. The knowledge that I could become one of them frightened me the most. All it would take was one slip to lose everything I am.”

“How did you deal with the fear, then?” Hera said.

“I do not give in to it. The duty I have to the mages here is greater than my personal fears. It does not make them any less frightening, but it gives me my power back. I just remember that I am stronger than what the fear would make of me, and press on,” Wynne said. “You must do the same.”

Hera nodded. Nyx was certain that was the first time she’d seen Hera smile since they’d met in this lifetime. Nyx hadn’t given her too much to smile about. That just showed how Wynne’s grandmotherly spirit could work its magic. She didn’t need the _literal_ spirit’s help to do good for others.

Just as Wynne said to do, they pressed on. More abominations came at them, and though Hera paused, within a few seconds she was back to her usual self, confident and full of grace. Her daggers landed deadly blows with each slice of an abomination’s flesh. Wynne even cheered her on as she went. The fighting went much quicker with Hera at her best.

“You are very talented with those,” Nyx complimented her.

“I wasn’t looking for your approval,” Hera said with a scowl. “But...thanks.”

Nyx felt Alistair beside her, then heard him whisper, “Baaaaby steps.” Nyx had to stifle the giggle that caused.

They were approaching the stairs to the next floor when they heard a great commotion around them. Shades were rising from the floor as well as a rage demon, but someone was already starting to fight them. Another mage, apparently, as he quickly froze the demon and shot more bolts of energy at the shades. This was...new.

“Fucking ugly little pieces of shit! Bugger off already!” he shouted, face turning red with rage. Nyx expected Wynne to be upset with the mage, but she just sighed.

Leliana and Wynne started their attacks while the other three charged at the Shades. It was strange to fight these creatures, who were more akin to liquid or gas than solid form. But when you cut enough times in the right places, they returned to shadow. The rage demon was far less fun to deal with, as it radiated intense heat. Nyx thought that the creature reminded her of Orzammar, its body matching the temperature and consistency of the lava that flowed beneath the great city.

It was certainly interesting to fight while the mystery mage fired curses from his staff and his mouth. Nyx was still trying to remember him, but there was nothing. She’d not met him last time, for one reason or another. This was an entirely new experience, but what did that mean for her? Finally, the mage slammed his staff into the ground, emitting a final powerful blast of iced magic.

“Smash it!” he called to Nyx. “Enough force and the ugly fucker will break right apart!”

Nyx lifted her blade and brought it down on the frozen demon. It did as the mage said it would, and shattered on impact. It was a brilliant move, she had to admit.

“Finally,” he sighed, leaning against a bookcase. “Thank the bleeding Maker that’s over and done with.” He pushed his hair back, which was pointless as it fell right back in front of his sweat-drenched face. The mage looked over towards Wynne, and said, “Who are these people, exactly?”

“Cronus, I’m glad to see you’re alright, but what are you doing here? Weren’t you with Irving?” Wynne asked.

“I was,” Cronus said, “until all of this shit started. Can you believe Knight Commander Greagoir was going to hold a hearing for me when there were leagues of blood mages right under his stuck up nose?”

“Your crimes were your own, the consequences of which you would have dealt with,” Wynne said impatiently. “You are not excused for what you did simply because there are others who have done wrong.”

“I’m just choosing to see the irony in all of it,” Cronus argued. “The First Enchanter told me to see if I could find any other mages and get them out before the mages and abominations got to them, but by the time I evaded enough of those things to get down here, there was already a fucking barrier up locking me in. Your handiwork, I assume.”

“Yes, had you told me you were there-”

“Yeah, you would have let me in. And then not had the energy to put up another shield, and we all would have died horribly. Am I right?” Cronus said. Wynne didn’t respond. She hadn’t been able to put up a new barrier behind them. “As I suspected. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“We’re Grey Wardens,” Nyx said. “Not all of us, but myself and Alistair are. We came to seek the aid of the mages, but given the situation, we decided to help.”

“Wardens? So you two know Duncan?” Cronus said. “I met him just before all that nonsense with Jowan. He actually seemed to understand my hatred of the Chantry. He was...not what I would have expected.”

“Duncan was a great man,” Nyx said, lowering her gaze. “He died at Ostagar, protecting the King.”

“Oh,” Cronus said. “I mean I heard the Wardens died, but I figured that was bullshit. I doubted Duncan would fall but, I suppose even strong warriors can be overpowered.”

Nyx looked at Alistair. They still hadn’t spoken too much about Duncan, or at least, they’d not spoken about his death. It was a fresh wound, yet, not given enough time to truly heal. Judging by Alistair’s face alone, he was taking this fairly well.

“But if you’re in here, that means Greagoir let you in,” Cronus said, voice nearing a growl. “Since you’re with Wynne, I’m guessing you’re not here to massacre us all, so...what? Kill the maleficarum and demons then just tell the Knight Commander we’re definitely all safe and not possessed?”

“He wants First Enchanter Irving to tell him it’s safe,” Nyx said. “Just him.”

“Great. Uldred and some of his blood mage goons took Irving. They’re probably attempting to corrupt him as we speak,” Cronus said.

“Uldred? He’s behind this mess?” Wynne said. “I should have known.”

“We have to get to Irving before they can turn him into one of those things,” Nyx insisted.

Everyone was in agreement there. They raced up the stairs, entering the second floor mage’s quarters. The Tranquil mage Owain was there, calmly sweeping and attempting to clean the storage area he would normally oversee. Cronus groaned, ignoring the man and choosing to move on before anyone else. Nyx didn’t want him going alone, and followed while Wynne stayed behind for just a moment to speak with Owain.

“Tranquil are mindless slaves of the Chantry. They feel nothing, so they are nothing. There’s no reason to talk to him, he’ll just keep doing his job like everything is normal,” Cronus said.

“What do you mean they ‘feel nothing?’” Hera asked.

“It’s exactly as it sounds. They block a mage off from the Fade, taking his magic and personality all in one fell swoop. I couldn’t let that happen to Jowan,” Cronus said. Nyx paused.

“Isn’t Jowan the name of the blood mage who-”

“-poisoned Arl Eamon?” Alistair finished for her.

“He did _what_?!” Cronus shouted. “That bloody idiot. On the run from templars and he assassinates an Arl. Unbe-fucking-lievable.”

“Arl Eamon is still alive,” Nyx said. “Not that that changes anything.”

“No, but at least he didn’t murder someone. A plus, I suppose,” Cronus said.

Wynne rejoined them just in time to face more blood mages. They made quick work of them. Mages robes were not made to offer much protection, but rather had runes patterned into them to imbue a mage with more power. It was nice, but still didn’t do much against a sword. The last blood mage fell to her knees, dropping her staff and begging for her life.

“Please!” she cried. “I know I’ve done nothing to earn this, but please spare my life. We had no idea what Uldred had planned. He simply said… He promised us a better life, free of the templars and their oppression.” She lifted her head and stared at Cronus. “You understand that, don’t you? You talked about hating the Chantry often.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t slit my wrists and summon demons to destroy my own home. What kind of idiots do you take us for?” Cronus snarled. “This is a ruse. Soon as our backs are turned, she’ll try to kill us.”

“No! Please!” the girl sobbed.

“Wait,” Nyx said, holding a hand in front of Cronus. “That isn’t how we do things. Everyone deserves a chance. She was fighting against the same system you don’t believe in. Uldred tricked them, used them to gain power. That isn’t her fault.”

“She fell for it easily enough,” Cronus said.

“And now she’s repentant,” Nyx argued. “I see no reason to kill her. Go down to the other mages. Perhaps you can help us against the darkspawn.”

“The d...you’re Grey Wardens?” the woman guessed. Nyx nodded. “Then you’re trying to stop the Blight. I...I will do this. Help you, that is. If you see that my life is worth giving to your cause, I will gladly give it.”

“Then go,” Nyx said.

“That was kind of you,” Leliana said. “Offering her a chance to make up for what she has done.”

“It was foolish,” Cronus said.

“I hate to agree with the grumpy one but, she was a maleficar,” Alistair said.

“A maleficar who faced us on her knees with her weapon on the ground,” Nyx said.

“Exactly,” Hera said. “We’re here to save the mages. What sense is there in killing a defenseless mage begging for her life?”

That was unexpected, but welcome. It seemed to stop the arguing, anyway. There was much left to be done. They cleared the second floor of the monsters that plagued them, stopping every so often to regain their energy and mana. Wynne would take these moments to heal everyone’s wounds. 

The third floor offered more of the same. Demons, abominations, and a spattering of blood mages. The one new thing they faced were the templars, Greagoir’s men. They had been possessed and were far beyond salvation at this point.

Nyx remembered having some tool later on that helped free their minds from the hold of blood magic, but some of the templars were with desire demons. If they were the thralls of demons instead of mages, it was likely impossible to free them even if given the chance. They certainly didn’t have time to try, as the templars ran at Nyx and her companions with their swords drawn.

It was upon reaching the fourth floor that Nyx remembered the challenge awaiting them ahead. Perhaps she could be ready this time, fight the influence of Sloth and resist his spell of sleep. It was likely too much to hope.

They couldn’t even manage to save another templar, caught in a dream world where he was happily settled down with a wife and children. Nyx despised this desire demon particularly. It was such a pure thing to wish for, not like fantasies of riches or power. Desire demons didn’t care what your dream was. They would exploit people good or bad, if given the chance.

Nyx stopped just before opening the door. Behind it was the demon that would trap them all in the Fade. She had to give some kind of warning, however vague.

“Everyone, be on guard,” Nyx said. “Each level has held some new challenge for us. It’s possible Uldred put his more powerful demons closer to himself, for added protection.”

The group nodded in unison, agreeing with that assessment. Only Hera understood that it was more than just a very smart guess. Hera even drew her daggers in preparation for what lay ahead. The weapons wouldn’t help her.

“Ah, more guests. I wish I had a chair or comfortable bed to offer you. You’ve come so far up this tower, I should be more hospitable,” Sloth said as they entered the room. Nyx spied Niall’s body on the ground. Was he already dead, or was the demon keeping him alive?

“This isn’t your home, demon,” Cronus said. “It’s ours.”

“I see that you wish to fight. Very well. But we should make it fair, shouldn’t we? You’re so tired from climbing all those steps, fighting all those demons. You ought to rest. You deserve it, after all that hard work,” Sloth said.

“My head feels...fuzzy,” Alistair said slowly.

“Don’t listen to him! You have to stay awake!” Nyx shouted.

“You, most of all, have worked so hard to get here,” Sloth said. Nyx felt a chill run through her. “You’ve come so far and you’ve not stopped fighting to keep all that you love nearby. Shouldn’t you take a break? Sleep, and dream of nicer things.”

Wynne and Leliana were the first to fall. Alistair collapsed soon after, then Hera. Nyx felt her mind slipping, and it was like her body was floating. Blackness overcame her sight. She didn’t see Cronus fall down, but knew that he was taken as well. No one could escape Sloth’s thrall.

_Rest, you deserve it. After everything you’ve been through, you should rest._

♢♢♢♢♢

Her eyes opened to a dappling of sunlight. She was in bed, a regal bed with sheets of silk and blankets of the finest furs she had ever felt. Nyx didn’t think she’d ever felt something this soft. Just to her right was a window and outside was a magnificent tree with blossoming flowers set among the leaves. She was in a building of stone, but the beauties of nature surrounded her yet. But that wasn’t all.

Nyx shifted to her left, to see that her love, her only and forever love, was in bed beside her. His hazel eyes followed her as she sat up. Only then did it occur to her that she was fully nude, and from the look of things, so was Alistair. Just what in the name of the Maker happened?

Nyx found her memory hazy, coated in an unfortunate fog that collided with her current reality. This couldn’t be right, they were fighting the darkspawn and the Blight, not sleeping in lavish beds together.

“Alistair,” she breathed, “sorry if this sounds ridiculous but, where exactly are we?”

“Ah, of course you don’t remember last night,” Alistair said. “‘I can handle my liquor,’ you said. ‘I used to drink with Oghren,’ you said. Then one quick session of very drunken lovemaking and you pass out cold on me. Typical royal behavior.”

“Royal?” Nyx said.

“Yes, my queen,” Alistair said, sitting up to kiss and hold her. “We’d best get up before the boys get too rowdy.”

“The… Alistair, what about the Blight? The darkspawn? Morrigan?” Nyx asked.

“Now there’s a name I thought I’d never hear again. What makes you bring this up now?” Alistair asked, tilting his head. Still so much like a puppy, even when everything else seemed strange.

“I’m just thinking about...everything that happened,” Nyx said.

She hadn’t been a moment ago. A moment ago she was asking what had happened. Now it was like things were clearing up. She was remembering things she never thought she would have forgotten.

“I understand, even now it feels a bit hard to believe,” Alistair said. “The darkspawn, gone forever. The Archdemon slayed by my beautiful wife’s own hand.” He planted a kiss on her hand as he said this. “Morrigan however, is still gone. No clue where she’s gone, too, after all that. I for one say good riddance.”

“She still did us a great favor,” Nyx reminded him. Alistair nodded solemnly.

“Let us speak no more of this,” Alistair said, and kissed her again, this time on her forehead. “The boys will be waiting to see their mother, I’m sure.”

It rushed into her mind, like an obvious fact. Her husband and king in her beautiful home where her beautiful sons are growing up. _It’s almost too good to be true,_ she thought with a sigh. _But it is._ Nyx needed the reminder. She needed it again and again to fight the nagging thought that this was wrong. How could anything so perfect and right possibly be wrong?

They dressed themselves, preparing to leave their room and begin their day. Before they could reach the door, it burst open. Two small boys with dark hair clung to her skirts. Their faces were already covered in muck, but their eyes shined with life. One of them had their father’s eyes, hazel, though mostly brownish in hue. The other shared the honey color of Nyx’s. She lifted this boy, Orion, into her arms, and her heart swelled with love for her family.

“My, my, it’s not even noon and you’re already filthy. What have the two of you been up to, my little troublemakers?” Nyx said.

“Nan wanted to feed us beets, but we hate beets!” Orion declared, raising his fists in rebellion.

“So we mashed them up with our feet,” his older brother, Tamlen, said. There was an adventurousness to the boy that always reminded Nyx of her departed friend.

“Perseus helped!” Orion added. The mabari hound bounded up behind Tamlen, barking to affirm the claim. Helped indeed.

“You needn’t torment poor old Nan. She just wants you to be healthy,” Nyx scolded, but tried to do so gently.

She patted her youngest on the head. She brushed his thick hair aside and saw the slightest of points to his ear. They appeared almost elven. Nyx brought her hand up to her own ear, touching it to look for the round human ear she’d just started getting used to. Instead she felt the long pointed ears she had in her old life.

Nyx placed Orion back on the ground. She took a few steps back, her head reeling again. This wasn’t right. She was a Cousland now. A human noblewoman, just like she needed to be for Alistair to keep her. The Blight had ended once, but she hadn’t been the one to kill the Archdemon. She didn’t remember striking it down, despite the fact that she had planned to in order to save Alistair.

Nyx had chased Morrigan down for answers. Nyx had gone to The Changeling for the dark spells only he knew how to perform. Nyx spilled the blood of Hera Cousland to take her place in the past, to take her life and title. This was a beautiful life, too beautiful a life for one who had done vile deeds to selfish ends. The Blight was not over, not this time, not yet.

“Who are you really?” she asked Alistair, staring him down. He looked perfect. He practically glowed as she studied him. He looked like himself, this was true, but he looked _too much_ like himself. More like the way she saw him when she remembered his face, and less like the way his face actually was.

“Darling? What’s wrong? It’s me, Alistair,” he said. He was a poor imitation, Nyx could see it at last. This wasn’t the man she loved.

“No, it isn’t. Whoever… _whatever_ you are, I suggest you release me before I run you through,” Nyx warned. She found a sword and gripped in in both her hands, to prove that the threat is serious.

“Maker’s breath, Nyx,” Alistair said. He pushed her would-be children behind him protectively. “This isn’t like you. Please, you’ll scare the boys.”

“This is all a lie,” Nyx said. Tears were filling her eyes. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be free, but this is too much. This was the life she fought for and now it was being used to mock her desires. It was perverse.

“So what if it is?” Alistair said. But he wasn’t Alistair. He had just admitted to as much. “Would that make it any less lovely? You have me, you have a kingdom and children. You get to be Dalish again. I see in your heart, Nyx, you miss it. You hate this false human cover you’ve placed over yourself. You wonder if you really are the same Nyx Mahariel you once were, if you ever could be Nyx when you live in the body of a shem.”

“Stop it,” Nyx said. She lowered her sword. This was too much. Far too much.

“You could stay here, and be happy forever. He’ll never love you like he once did. Not if he ever learns of what you’ve done. With the taint in you, you may never have his heirs. Or any children. But here, you can have it all, just name it,” the false Alistair said. His voice was starting to crack into something deeper and demonic. The creature’s true voice, Nyx realized.

“I will not stay here while the world outside depends on me. And if he will not love me, at least I can save his life! At least I can stop him from making the same stupid mistake, stop myself from giving up the chance we had at living,” Nyx declared. She would not swallow any more lies from this demon. She would find Alistair if she had to drag herself through the Void and back to do it.

“It’s a pity, really,” the false Alistair said, shaking his head. “Stubborn and strong-willed ones like yourself never learn. The outside world is cruel, but the Fade can offer you the world. _We_ can offer you all you desire. But instead you force us to kill you.”

Nyx gritted her teeth, and brought the sword back up to point at the demon. “Come on and try it, then!” she shouted. With a fierce battle cry, she ran at him. He still wore the face of the man she loved, as a dare of its own. It didn’t expect that she’d stay true to her promise to run him through. It was wrong.

The false Alistair crumbled and fell onto his side, where it laid dead. The children behind him trembled, but Nyx knew that they, too, were falsehoods. Pretty stories invented to placate her. She sobbed as she swung her blade through the air, cutting them down. Their true demonic forms did not reveal themselves, even in death, and for a moment she panicked, doubting her previous certainty.

A glow behind her proved that she was not wrong, however, as a pedestal appeared. She placed her hands on it and allowed it to take her away. Nyx would have no more of this lie. She would face the Fade, despite how her heart broke as she pictured the beautiful faces of those children again and again. She lifted a hand to her ear once more, and felt the flat shape.

♢♢♢♢♢

When she had appeared on the other side, she was back in her regular armor, prepared to fight the demons she would face in the Fade. Niall was hopeless, even as Nyx demonstrated her ability to change shape due to the power of other trapped spirits. He was at least helpful enough to remind her how the demon’s trap worked, as well as informing her about the Litany of Adralla. That was the artifact they would need to defeat Uldred and help the First Enchanter. Nyx thanked him and went on her way to the many islands of nightmares.

It wasn’t a task she’d looked forward to. In fact, she had dreaded it even more than facing the werewolves or the dwarven politics. It wasn’t worse than the Deep Roads, which was about the nicest thing she could say about it. She knew she needed to defeat the demons blocking her way to get to Sloth, but first, she wanted to make sure she rescued her companions from their prisons. Nyx prayed that they were not quite as cruel as her own had been.

Alistair was with his sister, Goldanna, but she was a kinder version than the reality Nyx knew existed. He hadn’t even opened up to her about this secret yet. She felt like an invader, but knew that she needed to free him. It hurt to tear him from something that made him smile so brightly, but it was an illusion. Nyx made up for the pain in her chest by promising that she’d make him smile every day, on her own terms. She watched him disappear, and moved on.

Leliana dreamed she was back in the Chantry. Nyx forgot sometimes, with all the power the woman displayed, that she had once been a lay sister. Not only that, but this was a place where she felt safest. But Nyx knew it wasn’t where she belonged. Nyx reminded her of the vision Leliana had, and started to see the fog in her eyes clear. They destroyed Leliana’s demon together.

Wynne’s trap was cruel, perhaps even crueler than Nyx’s. Instead of showing everyone Wynne loved at her side and happy, it showed them dead. These demons meant to incapacitate her with hopelessness and despair, rather than placate her with pleasantness and joy. Nyx took a particular pleasure in ridding the Fade of these demons.

Next, Nyx stumbled into Cronus’ dream. She had no idea what to expect from this man, whom she had only just met a few moments ago. She had expected something violent, at least, but was surprised to find him sitting at a dinner table with a family. _His_ family. Beside him was even a young woman with dark hair and fair skin, whose hand he held as she looked at him like he was the most precious thing in Thedas.

“I’m so glad the Circle agreed to let you live with us again,” his mother said.

“I just regret not being able to see you grow up. But what a fine young man you’ve become,” his father said.

“Cronus,” Nyx called, gaining the attention of everyone at the table.

“Darling? Who is that woman?” the dark-haired woman beside Cronus asked him.

“I don’t know her,” Cronus said, pushing food around with a fork. For a fantasy world, it appeared to bore him utterly. “Why are you familiar?”

“Sit down at the table and eat with us,” his mother invited. “You look like you might be hungry.”

“Cronus, you’re a mage. Can’t you recognize the Fade when you’re in it?” Nyx asked.

“I...the Fade.” Cronus dropped the woman’s hand and stood. He hadn’t required much convincing. “See, I knew something was off. Thank you for coming for me…?”

“Nyx. It’s Nyx. I don’t think I actually told you that before,” she said.

“No, you didn’t. Ah, well. Let’s kill these demons, shall we?” Cronus said. He let off a giant fireball before she could even reply.

With Cronus saved, the only one that remained trapped was Hera. Nyx worried that she would be like a trespasser, here, more so than any of the other dreams. Nyx was the last person Hera would want to see. Yet, she could not leave Hera here, trapped in the Fade. To do so would only prove all the worst things Hera had thought about Nyx.

The nightmare she entered was dark, almost pitch black, if not for the eerie glow that lead Nyx through the dream. Even if she had been unable to see, Nyx could have simply followed the sound of screams. She held her hands over her ears to muffle it, the shrieking becoming unbearable.

Nyx stepped into the room where Hera stood, frozen save for her face, which was allowed just enough movement so she could cry out in pain. Her body was cut in the familiar patterns of the Changeling, and on the other side of the room were bodies. The Couslands, dead and stripped to their smallclothes, covered in similar markings, the blood still dripping from their skin.

Nyx felt ill. She covered her mouth as she gasped, and Maker’s breath that _smell_. It was somehow worse than the rest of the Circle Tower. Rot and refuse and who knows what else mixed into the worst stench imaginable.

Worst yet, the Changeling was not there. There were two people causing the torture, a man who looked like Howe and the Changeling had morphed into one being, and Nyx. She was still small and elven in this nightmare. And she was laughing with delight. She cut into Hera’s arm with a smile.

The real Nyx snapped out of her preoccupied horror, rushing forward to get between Hera and her attackers. She threw her arms out defensively.

“Hera, listen to me. This isn’t real. We are in the Fade. These are demons trying to torture you and keep you from escaping into the real world,” Nyx said, staring down Howe and the other Nyx as she spoke.

Hera was still sobbing, her voice barely a whimper. “No… You did this to me. You did this,” she said.

“I did. I did let him hurt you and I did lie to you. I almost let you die. Nothing I do or say will ever justify that,” Nyx cried. “But I didn’t kill your family. That was Howe. And he is still out there. Don’t you want to make him pay?”

“How can I?” Hera said. Nyx glanced back and saw that Hera could move a little more, lowering her head and clenching her fists. She was still in pain, but she was starting to free herself. “I’m too weak. I can’t even kill _you_ right. Instead I’m travelling with you, like we’re allies. Like we’re friends!”

She gasped, her breath hitching in her chest. Hera had been crying so long, her body shook each time she tried to take in air. She fell to her knees now. Hera was back in control of her body, but her mind was still paralyzed.

“Admit it, Hera,” the fake Nyx taunted, “you’ve been wrong about me. You considered getting to know me. It’s pathetic! You don’t even know how to hate right!”

“She didn’t even kill me herself. She ran from the Wardens like a coward and hid in the Wilds with that brother of hers,” fake Howe said with a laugh.

“Howe still lives, Hera!” Nyx shouted. “You can still have your revenge! We’ll make him know you. We’ll make him pay like he deserves!”

“But that doesn’t make up for us,” fake Nyx challenged. “Hera hates you, but she hates herself more. Because she had to admit that she was wrong. You aren’t the monster I am, Nyx. It is so much easier to despise a monster.”

“But I am!” Nyx said. “I still brought you to the Changeling. I still did this to you! You shouldn’t forgive me. But you shouldn’t let these demons trap you here either.”

“Just go away,” Hera sobbed. “I don’t want this.”

Nyx turned, bringing Hera to her feet with force. She looked her right in the eye, and watched the shock hit Hera as she saw that Nyx was crying as well.

“You’re right. This isn’t what you want. So are you going to stay here and cry? Or get your revenge?” Nyx said.

Hera opened and closed her mouth twice, trying to find an argument to use. She found nothing. Instead, her hands found her daggers, still on her back. The illusion was breaking and she was back in her armor, healthy and without any wounds. Nyx stepped aside. Hera had to destroy these nightmares on her own.

Nyx would tell no one how Hera wept as she cut into the demons again and again. Even when the fake Howe and Nyx were clearly both dead, Hera stabbed them until she couldn’t anymore, her vision blurred by tears. Nyx stood by, waiting until Hera caught her breath. She stood to face Nyx, then disappeared as her lips parted.

♢♢♢♢♢

Sloth fell to the cold stone floor, defeated, just as Nyx and her companions rose from it. Niall’s body did not move. He was dead, as he’d told Nyx while she was still in the Fade. She moved slowly towards him, grabbing the Litany of Adralla from his hand. He must have tried using it to save himself from Sloth just before he died. Nyx hoped he had felt no pain.

Everyone was trying to avoid Nyx’s gaze. They all clearly remembered what their dreams had been, and that Nyx had seen them. Cronus was the only exception, looking at Nyx expectantly once he was standing.

“You have the Litany?” he asked. Nyx nodded, and Cronus grinned. “Then let’s fucking kill Uldred.”

“By the Maker, is that really necessary?” Wynne complained.

Cronus paid her no mind. Nyx didn’t even mind the colorful language. The situation definitely called for it. She frankly wanted to shout some curses herself, but didn’t think it would do much for current morale. She needed everyone back in fighting shape.

“Let’s go,” Nyx said. Simple, but enough of a command to get everyone’s attention.

They fought with more ferocity, more of a unit than they had ever been before. Something about going to the Fade together does that to you. They were connected unlike ever before. Nyx knew that they could really do it. Save the Tower and the mages within. With every demon she felled, she felt more certain of that truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I just say to myself “I think I’d like to feel sad today.” Then things like this pop out. Those would absolutely be the names for their sons, too. Which hurts me even more.
> 
> Also, only one day late! Haha! (I'm sorry.)


	10. Forgive, Don't Forget

The trapped templar, Cullen, panicked at their approach. Nyx knelt to match his level. She had to talk him down from this. He would never believe things would be alright again. Nyx hadn’t seen him when she’d come with Ariane. She vaguely remembered something about a transfer to another Circle, somewhere in the north. Maybe things would be better for him there, once Cullen left again.

“We aren’t illusions, I promise,” Nyx said gently.

“This barrier...it’s unlike any magic I’ve ever seen,” Wynne commented. “The poor boy has endured so much torment because of Uldred.”

“Go away! I will not fall victim to your tricks,” Cullen said, shutting his eyes tight as he prayed. When he opened his eyes again, he was stunned. “You’re still here. B-but that always worked before.”

“I told you. We’re no demons. We’re Grey Wardens. Knight Commander Greagoir sent us through to stop Uldred. We’re going to make the Circle safe again,” Nyx said.

“I don’t believe that’s possible,” Cullen said. He started to stand, and Nyx brought herself back up as he did. “You can’t tell the difference between them, good mages or bad ones. They could all be possessed. The only way you can save us is by killing everyone in there.”

“I won’t do that,” Nyx said. “Not until I know for sure they can’t be saved.” Hera stiffened behind her.

“I understand you want to be merciful, but you haven’t seen what I have. Taking this risk may doom us all,” Cullen said.

“No,” Nyx said, determined, “it won’t.”

Cullen did not argue further, falling back to his knees to pray instead. He was so young, yet. Whatever his future held, Nyx hoped he could escape this. These memories would not be kind to him.

When Uldred tried to make a deal with Nyx, she shut him down immediately. She wanted this over and done with, wanted no more than a fight. Irving had collapsed off to the side, his breathing shallow. Wynne would heal him as soon as they were finished with the blood mage.

His transformation was sickening. He burst apart, but somehow also grew larger. His body shined with a yellow aura, and when he arose as a beast, Uldred roared. Nyx drew her sword, prepared for the fight ahead.

She cut one of his legs, in hopes that he would have trouble moving. It slowed him, but only minimally. Hera skirted around his back, sliding down to cut at the back of his other leg. With this, they’d effectively crippled him. Hera cheered at their success, but they weren’t done yet.

Cronus alternated between lightning and ice spells, favoring the former. It was helping to weaken Uldred, sapping not just strength, but mana as well. Uldred roared again, lifting an arm and swinging it at the mage. Cronus just barely skirted out of the way, but a mage behind him convulsed.

“Nyx! The Litany!” Wynne cried.

Nyx whipped around to see the mage, shaking violently while foam started to form in his mouth. She took out the Litany of Adralla, trying desperately to remember how it worked. Nyx had done this before, but not without losing the lives of two mages, first. She stared at the words, but felt something fill her, even without reading from it out loud. Nyx shut her eyes tight and commanded this energy outwards, imagining it filling the room like a flood of light.

The mage stopped his convulsions, falling back to the floor, body limp once more. Nyx could not tell if he was alive, but didn’t allow herself to worry about that. Not yet, anyhow.

Alistair kept getting close to Uldred. He made long horizontal cuts into the demon’s body, weakening the monster with each draw of his blade. Yet, he could only evade the attacks for so long. Uldred swept one of his massive clawed hands downward, throwing Alistair across the room.

Nyx screamed his name. But another mage was starting to shake. She drew energy from the Litany again, trusting Wynne to look after Alistair. She was quicker this time, used to the feeling of gathering and releasing the power the Litany of Adralla held. Was this what magic felt like?

Nyx refocused, seeing Hera work to dodge swooping attacks from the massive demon. Leliana had managed to avoid most notice, causing small increments of damage where she could. An arrow struck Uldred in the neck, which must have been painful, because he stopped his hand mid-swing to cry out.

While he was distracted, Nyx took the opportunity to charge. Her sword cleaved into his side, blood spilling from the fresh wound. Nyx pulled her blade from his body, then spun and let it collide with the other side of his torso. The scream this time was almost unbearable.

“Use the Litany!” Wynne called again. Nyx hadn’t noticed the other mage, starting to succumb to Uldred’s blood magic. She pulled her sword back out as fast as she could, but it stuck hard in the abomination’s belly. Nyx tugged again, yelling wildly until it came free. The Litany seemed to sense the need again, for its energy filled her with just a touch of the hand. Nyx was attuned to the artifact.

She released her energy just in time, watching the yellow aura around the mage die before it could morph him. Nyx sighed, but Uldred was furious. He batted her down with the back of his hand, reserving some of his energy, then formed a fist and lifted it in the air.

But Alistair was healed, and slid in just in time to protect Nyx. Uldred’s arm vibrated as it struck Alistair’s metal shield. The demon wailed. Cronus sent another bolt of lightning at the center of Uldred’s back, charring its inhuman flesh.

Alistair was helping Nyx to stand again. She needed to use the Litany one last time, to prevent the final mage in the room from turning to an abomination. While she did this, Hera leapt from the ground, driving her daggers into the beast’s chest. They dragged down his front, ripping two large holes into him.

Hera kicked off of Uldred’s body, landing a safe distance away before he started to fall. The room shook as the demon crashed to the ground with a final monstrous grunt. Uldred was dead.

Wynne was already by Irving when the creature was finally vanquished. Her hands glowed with green light, waving them over the First Enchanter in circular motions. His breathing evened out as he healed, until he felt well enough to sit up again. Cronus joined them, leaning on his staff as he popped open a vial of lyrium. He downed it, then chucked the empty glass vial to the wall and let it shatter. Wynne grimaced.

Nyx was leaning on Alistair, and him on her. Her sword clanged on the stone floor. She didn’t have the energy left to lift it. Alistair let his own weapons drop, as well. His shield arm was sore and bruised from that last block. He felt how heavy it was, and for whatever reason, started to laugh.

Nyx stared at him, bewildered. Had blood magic caused him to go mad? But no, he was just laughing, throwing his arms around her and forgetting about the hard armor he wore.

“Ow,” she said, and Alistair loosened his grip instantly.

“Sorry,” he said. His laugh stopped abruptly. But then, Nyx was struck with the giggles, and they were both cackling together.

Hera smiled at them like they were insane. They might have even been, for a moment there, but it was over. After all the nightmarish hell they’d been through for the day, Uldred was defeated and they were still alive. Hera had to admit that she was just as glad, though she chose to show it in less manic ways.

She stood tall with pride. Hera had driven the killing blows into the demon. Hera had made him fall for good. Despite everything, she had managed to bring something good to Thedas by taking something horrible out of it. Hera dared to think that she might actually be okay after the change.

The rest of the group surrounded First Enchanter Irving, having checked the bodies of the other mages. None of the rest in the room had survived. That was a sobering fact, returning Nyx and the others back to somber silence for the long walk back down to the ground floor. As they went, Nyx remembered to retrieve Flemeth’s grimoire from its hiding place. Morrigan hadn’t mentioned it to her, but she knew from the last time that it was something Morrigan needed to have and learn from.

Convincing Greagoir was not too easy, even with Irving there. He was suspicious up until the moment he finally allowed the doors to open, and he saw the face of his old friend. The Knight Commander was relieved to know that Irving yet lived, and even more so to learn that Uldred was dead. When it was revealed that Hera was the one to end the battle, Greagoir insisted on rewarding her. She was granted a dagger crafted of fine red steel.

“Thank you, Knight Commander,” Hera said. “I will wield it well.”

“Of that, I am certain. Now, I’m afraid we must deal with the Wardens,” Greagoir said, turning to Nyx and Alistair. “I know you were promised aid from your treaties, but with the state the tower is in, I can’t afford to send any of my men with you. We will need to rebuild, and check any mages still alive for corruption. Even if they all prove to be clear of the influence of blood magic, I’m afraid there aren’t many of them left who would be able to fight with you.”

“Allow me to worry about that, Knight Commander,” First Enchanter Irving said. “I know my mages are perfectly capable, even in a small number. We will stand with the Grey Wardens, when we are needed. This, I promise you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Greagoir said. “We do have one other matter, however.” His eyes narrowed, focusing on Cronus, who stood smugly behind the Wardens. “You were supposed to be sent for a trial, boy. Your help in this matter has been appreciated, but that does not excuse you of your crimes.”

“I’m aware of that, but I’ve decided I’d rather just leave,” Cronus declared. The Knight Commander’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “The Grey Wardens need help? Give me to them.”

“...what?” Nyx said.

“You heard me. Duncan was a smart man, probably the smartest I’ve met in ages. If that’s the kind of caliber expected of a Warden, then I’d like to become one,” Cronus said.

“No, I will not allow this,” Greagoir said. “The Grey Wardens have enough trouble as it is. You are not fit to join their ranks.”

“Knight Commander, if I may speak,” Wynne said, stepping forward, “I was planning to join the Wardens on their journey, as an ally. If Cronus does wish to leave with them, he will leave in my charge.”

“Wynne, you are needed here,” Irving said. “I believe Cronus is capable of becoming a great Warden, but I don’t think it’s necessary for you to watch over him.”

“Neither do I,” Cronus said.

“Perhaps not, but would it not relieve the Knight Commander to know that we are looking after him?” Wynne argued.

“Never mind that,” Greagoir said, waving away their suggestions. “Would the Wardens even take him? Surely they understand what a danger he is.”

“Well…” Nyx said slowly. “He was a great help to us against Uldred and his blood mages. We are also the only two Wardens in Ferelden.”

Alistair leaned towards her and whispered, “But we don’t even know how to perform the Joining ritual. He can’t actually be a Grey Warden.”

Nyx couldn’t tell him that they would be able to once they found Riordan and rescued him from Howe. He had, after all, suggested recruiting Loghain. For now, Alistair was right. He would be a Grey Warden recruit until the Landsmeet was over and done with. That was a ways away.

“We need all the help we can get,” Nyx said, turning to Alistair. “I...I’d like to invoke the Right of Conscription.”

“You’re serious?” Greagoir said.

“Wait, can we even do that?” Alistair muttered. Then he noticed that everyone was looking at him, and shook his head. “I mean, of course we can. We’re Wardens.” He crossed his arms and puffed up, like he was big and tough, but leaned over to Nyx and asked, “You’re really sure about this?”

She nodded. “We would also appreciate it if you would allow Wynne to come with us. Her healing magic will surely prove invaluable to us.”

“I would not even begin to imagine I could actually stop Wynne, if she has made up her mind,” Irving said with a chuckle. “As for Cronus, I’ve no objections about his departure.”

“I…” Knight Commander Greagoir began, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. “It is your right, Wardens.” He bowed his head in acceptance, though it was abundantly clear that he did not want to give in to them.

“First Enchanter, we also need to ask a favor of you,” Nyx said. “There is a boy in Redcliffe…”

♢♢♢♢♢

Morrigan and Sten were waiting very far from one another when the boat brought the group back to the shore. Perseus had been resting in Sten’s lap. Leliana grinned when she noticed this, but saved the information for later. For now, the mabari was leaping up and barking loudly, running straight into the water to reach Nyx.

“Wait on the shore, Percy!” she called. He turned back, shaking the water from his fur. Sten was now soaking wet and grumpy. Morrigan cackled.

“There are more mages in your company,” Sten commented when they arrived. “I assume the tower is safe?”

“As safe as it can be, after what happened,” Nyx said.

Perseus was pushing Nyx’s hand, demanding to be pet. She gave in, crouching over to she could rub the dog’s belly. She had left him apart from her for a long time, it was understandable that he’d be lonely after all that. The others mostly wrinkled their noses at the wet dog smell. Mabari were naturally pungent, and the water wasn’t helping.

“First thing when we set camp, I am giving that dog a bath,” Wynne decided.

“Huh, good luck with that,” Hera said. “Mabari are notoriously stubborn about bath time.”

Wynne blinked slowly. “I wasn’t aware the Dalish knew anything about mabari,” she said.

Hera paused, taking a second to remember the cause for confusion. Nyx visibly shrunk, focusing on petting Perseus. Nyx had similar experiences when she nearly used elven language around the others, but had always caught herself before speaking anything out loud.

“I’ve...learned about humans. In my time apart from my clan. I like the dogs they have,” Hera said.

“I see,” Wynne said. Nyx couldn’t tell if she was suspicious or just always had that look like she knew something no one else did. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen that look on Wynne’s face before.

“Just keep him away from my side of the camp,” Cronus said with disgust. “The last thing I need are smelly robes.”

“Perhaps that could work to our advantage,” Alistair said. “The mighty stench of a mabari could fell our enemies!”

Nyx laughed, but everyone else just groaned.

“Sometimes I swear we are the only ones here with a sense of humor,” Alistair complained. But when he caught Nyx’s eye, he smiled at her.

“It’s not that we don’t have senses of humor, Alistair,” Leliana said. “It’s just that ours are better than yours.”

“Hey!” Alistair said, offended. This only made Nyx laugh more. They needed this after what they’d been through. All of them did.

They camped not far away from Lake Calenhad. It was already late, and everyone who had fought in the tower was rightfully exhausted. Nyx had wanted to talk with Alistair a bit more, but he fell asleep as soon as his bowl was empty. Wynne had done the honors of cooking for them, and everyone was immensely grateful. Nyx could love the man, but she would never love Alistair’s cooking. She let him sleep.

Nyx thought of giving the grimoire to Morrigan already, but when Nyx looked over to her side of the camp, Morrigan was not alone. Cronus was sitting up and chatting with her. Sometimes she had her usual annoyed look, but on the whole she looked a lot calmer, almost pleased in some moments. Cronus had seemed like an ornery man, but perhaps he did better around like-minded people. Morrigan certainly bore no love for the Circle or the Chantry.

Sten had actually nodded off, though he was somehow still sitting up. It at least proved that Qunari did need sleep. Leliana had sneakily thrown a blanket over his shoulders as well, putting a finger over her lips and winking when she’d noticed Nyx watching. It would be their little secret. Wynne was also sound asleep, to Perseus’ great relief, as she’d been too tired to actually give him the dreaded bath.

Only Hera and Leliana were awake on their side of the camp. It was easy to tell when Bodahn and Sandal were asleep because of the snoring. Nyx vaguely remembered Oghren snoring too, and wondered if it was a dwarf thing.

Nyx went to sit with the two redheads, attempting to be friendly with Hera. Leliana was in the middle of one of her stories, about the great knight Ser Aveline. Nyx loved how lively the bard got when she was telling a story. She would even mime some of the actions as she spoke, gesturing like she was swinging a sword or pulling off Ser Aveline’s helmet.

“I’m still amazed you even knew that story. I thought the Dalish only knew stories about elves?” Leliana said, looking at Hera.

“I studied hu- shemlen,” Hera said, deciding to use the elven word at the last second. “After I left my clan. I found their stories to be interesting.”

“Well, even in Ferelden it’s not as well known. In Orlais, Ser Aveline is famous for defying the law and becoming the first female chevalier,” Leliana said, a twinkle in her eyes. “It is inspiring.”

“Even though she died at the end?” Nyx said.

“Yes. In some way, that makes the story more romantic. She died for what she believed in, and brought change to the way chevalier are thought of in Orlais,” Leliana said.

“I’d think she would have been better off living to see the change,” Nyx said, growing quiet. _As if an honor in death made the dying any better._ The thought still haunted her.

“I suppose, but that is history. It is not something we could change, even if we wanted to,” Leliana said. “I believe that’s enough storytelling for one night. Sleep well, you two.” She disappeared into her tent.

“If only she knew, right?” Hera said, a sad chuckle escaping her.

Nyx was silent. There wasn’t much she could say. Anything she thought of felt insincere, or at least it felt like it would sound that way. Still, she wanted to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” Nyx said finally. She couldn’t look at Hera, but at least she’d said the words.

“For what?” Hera asked. “You’ve done a lot. I just want to know which thing in particular this apology is for.”

Nyx could hardly fault her for that. “For stepping into your nightmare,” she said. “I know I had to, to get you out of the Fade, but that was personal. I had no right to see that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Hera said, “but I’m glad you did.”

Nyx sat up a bit straighter, a confused crease between her brows.

Hera bit her lip in an attempt to hide the upward curve of her mouth. “Seeing you there made me realize that it was just an illusion. I know you aren’t that person. What I’m having trouble understanding, is who you actually are.”

“What do you mean?” Nyx asked.

“I mean, you were the Hero of Ferelden. Saved everyone and made the world a better place. Then you take it all away again and for what? One man? You brought back the Blight and you didn’t even save my family. What was the point?” Hera said. Her hands were balled into fists on her thighs. Nyx could no longer see her face, covered by a curtain of orange hair.

“I...I wanted to…” Nyx said quietly. She breathed, closing her eyes for a moment to think. “What was it like when you first woke up?”

“What?”

“When you woke up the first time and knew that something was different. That you weren’t supposed to be Dalish,” Nyx said.

“Well, it seemed like my regular life at first. Like I was supposed to be there. I remembered the Keeper and my clan. Then Tamlen came yelling for me to hurry up so we could start the day’s hunt. I had these memories of a human life, of my life, but they didn’t feel like mine at first. More like just a strange dream. Then we went out and encountered these shemlen who…” Hera paused, shaking her head. “We met these human men who claimed to have found ruins in the forest. We’d been there for ages, but we’d never seen something like that. Tamlen and I were both too curious to leave it be.

“We let the humans go, but with a warning. Then we hurried down to where they said they found the ruins. They were massive and confusing, and my head kept hurting. I was remembering more. A man whose face changed, a woman who lied. When Tamlen touched the mirror, something… _someone_ stepped in front of me. The Changeling. He shielded me from the cursed magic that spread from the mirror.

“The Changeling told me I would have been killed by the taint if he’d not been there. Tamlen was gone...without a trace, but all that abomination cared about was finding you. I had most of my memories but it still didn’t feel real. He told me what he’d done, switching our bodies and sending you back. Sending me through was an accident. Then, he smashed the mirror.

“That was when the memories came back in full. That was when I understood, and I broke down. He demanded me to tell him what I knew, and I realized that at that moment you’d probably be in Highever. Except, I didn’t want him to go there with the possibility that my family might still be alive at his arrival. I sent him away, into the mountains.”

Nyx breathed. The story was familiar to her, in so many ways. The way she’d woken up was the same; a confused tangle of the memories from two different lives. She had come to just in time to lose the Couslands as Hera had awoken on the day she would lose Tamlen. Nyx once considered that her first great loss, and in a way it still was, but experiencing what Howe had done firsthand… The moments couldn’t compare. Somewhere out there the clan lived on, but there were only two Couslands left in Ferelden, if not just the one.

“He could still be there,” Nyx said. “Looking for me.”

“He’s had a lot of time now to search. The mountain range is huge, yes, but surely he realized I’d lied before long,” Hera said.

Nyx bit her lip. “You should know that it w-was the same,” she said, trembling. “When I woke up, I thought I’d always been a Cousland. There were faint memories of being Dalish, but they felt like they belonged to someone else, at first. When I remembered everything, night had already fallen, and Howe’s men had already…” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Ir abelas. I should have tried harder.”

Hera was staring at the ground. Hearing the familiar language coming from Nyx felt more right than times she had used it herself. It was both hers and not, just as the Dalish were both her people and not. People saw her vallaslin and knew what she was meant to be, but could never understand that she did not belong as this elven woman.

“If I’d known about Tamlen,” Hera said, “I would have stopped him.”

Nyx shook her head. “I tried, before. He was always so stubborn. Anyone with sense knew he listened to no one. Telling him we should leave the ruins was impossible.”

Hera hummed in understanding. “I remember how stubborn he could be. Those are your memories, aren’t they? Altered slightly to fit me.”

“I believe that’s accurate,” Nyx said. “I’m not entirely sure. The memories I have of being raised in Highever must belong to you, but it’s like I lived those, as well. They simply feel more distant, now, than the memories of my other life.”

Hera was nodding. This was the thing she’d wanted to admit to least of all. They were connected. They were left with remnants of each other and, in a way, it made it so only they could truly understand one another. Their pasts were intertwined, and so it seemed their fates would be, too.

“You remember mother’s baking?” Hera said.

“Oh Maker...yes, I do. She should have left that work to Nan,” Nyx said with a small laugh.

“But she really wanted to learn to make those blueberry tartlettes that father loved so much,” Hera said.

“I don’t even think Perseus wanted to eat those. I did try feeding him the scraps.”

“Scooby hated them, too!” Hera said. She paused. “Where did you find your mabari, before?”

Nyx’s face fell a little. “In Ostagar. There had been a sick hound, but I helped find him the cure he needed. After the battle, he sought me out, already bonded to me. This time, I’ve no idea what happened to that pup.” She exhaled heavily. “Mythal have mercy, let him not be slaughtered by darkspawn.”

“Could we go back there?” Hera asked. “Maybe he’s managed to live in the Wilds?”

“It’s...possible, I suppose,” Nyx said, though it was clear she was fibbing. “There is a reason to go back, actually, even though it’s right in the heart of darkspawn territory. King Cailan left a chest, with documents from the Empress of Orlais and King Maric’s sword. Besides that, the darkspawn have weapons and armor from him and Duncan.”

“King _Maric’s_ sword?” Hera said, the pitch of her voice rising high. “Even if we can’t find a mabari, surely that alone is worth the journey.”

Nyx agreed they should go, but there was still Connor to see to. To convince the others, they’d also need to find Bann Loren, who was surely still on the run at this point from Loghain’s men. Or perhaps, he’d already died. It was hard to tell how much would change, with or without Nyx’s direct intervention.

“We need to help the Arl’s son before we consider it,” Nyx said. “Then, we’ll need to find Bann Loren. He’s being hunted, and might be difficult to track down. But he knows where the key is stored, and could convince the others to join us.”

“Then we find him,” Hera said, as if it were as simple as that. “Tell me what else you know.”

What else was there, besides everything? Nyx was not going to take up the entire night by telling Hera every detail of the journey ahead before the battle with the Archdemon finally began. She could fill her in, piece by piece, as the information was needed, but for now it seemed prudent to only tell her the more immediate things.

“Curing Connor will work as planned,” Nyx said. It was reassuring to remind herself of this fact, and Hera looked pleased to hear it as well. “But Arl Eamon will not wake up with the banishment of the demon. The magic it used will keep him alive, but to cure him and wake him again, he will need the Sacred Ashes of Andraste.”

“Wait, are you telling me that ridiculous myth that her ashes held mystical healing powers is _true?_ ” Hera said, gaping.

“I didn’t believe in it myself, at first. I saw it cure him before, however, and it can again. But there are many other things we have to do besides this. What comes next should be...oh,” Nyx said, stopping as something occurred to her. “Zevran.”

“I don’t think that’s an elven word I know,” Hera joked.

“No, no, it’s a name. An assassin named Zevran Arainai will be coming for us soon, hired by Loghain. He’s with the Antivan Crows,” Nyx said.

“Great. Then we kill him,” Hera said.

“No!” Nyx burst, and Hera was rightfully confused. “He is...he was...he can be our friend. An ally. In failing to kill us, Zevran himself becomes a target of the Crows. So he swears loyalty to us, instead, to gain our protection. He’s a skilled fighter and…” _And a horrible flirt._ “...has a good heart.”

Plus, he broke about thirty of Leliana’s lockpicks because he insisted on trying every time they came across a locked chest. Eventually, Leliana had refused to give him any more, because he would cost them a fortune replacing them all. Nyx found that Zevran was hard to explain.

“And he never tried killing you in your sleep or poisoning your tea?” Hera said, one eyebrow quirked much higher than the other.

“Not even once,” Nyx assured her. “His loyalty is true. He fought with us at Denerim, when the time came.”

“Alright. Then we make sure he lives,” Hera said. “I find it hard to believe you trusted this man without knowing for a fact he would be worthy of it.”

“I didn’t want to kill when I was given the option not to,” Nyx said.

Hera’s face returned to something just barely masking an intense rage. It was the way Hera had always looked at her before that day. Nyx gulped at its return.

“When did that change?” Hera said, her tone darkening.

“I’m not sure,” Nyx admitted. “Probably when I realized that the world didn’t operate under the same rule.”

“Do you expect me to forgive you?” Hera asked.

Nyx stared in silence. It wasn’t an offer, but it wasn’t quite spoken like a challenge either. Hera was honestly asking what Nyx was looking to get out of this.

“No,” Nyx said. “I would never forgive what I did, were I you.”

Hera nodded, face still pulled into her stern expression. “Good, because I shouldn’t,” Hera said. “I’m going to sleep.”

Nyx tried not to dwell on it, but the phrasing was somewhat odd. _I shouldn’t?_ It implied something that Nyx wasn’t sure she could believe. She didn’t want to read too much into the simple words, perhaps Hera had meant to signify something else or just chose her words poorly. Yet, Nyx could not escape the feeling that _should not_ was not the same as _can not_.

To Nyx, it sounded like there was a chance. One Nyx didn’t think she deserved. Despite herself, she found that she was hoping for it to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship is complex, to say the least. But they’re trying, and that’s what matters?
> 
> Anyway I've been lowkey obsessed with DAI as I finally got through my first playthrough a few days ago and am ashamed to admit I fell into Sollevan hell. Whoops.
> 
> Also, how do I even begin to explain Zevran Arainai? Zevran is flawless. I hear his hair is insured for 10,000 sovereigns. I hear he was on a pirate ship...in Rivain. One time he met Teryn Loghain, and he told Zevran that he was sexy. One time, he tried to assassinate us. It was _awesome_.


	11. Old New Faces

After Morrigan freed Connor of his demon, they’d only stayed in Redcliffe for a single night before continuing on the road. It was long enough for them to get some rest and resupply themselves with things the Arlessa and Bann Teagan provided. Being at Redcliffe got Alistair talking about his past more.

“The only thing I had that belonged to my mother was this amulet. I had it with me every day, but when I found out the Eamon planned to send me to the templars, I got so angry I smashed it against the wall. It broke apart instantly, and I hated myself for it. It was just so childish,” Alistair said.

“You _were_ a child. It’s understandable that you would react like that to such sudden news,” Nyx said. She placed a reassuring hand on his back.

“It doesn’t matter that I was young. I was a prat. And for it, I lost the most precious thing I owned,” Alistair said.

“Maybe someone found it? Someone in the castle?” Nyx said.

“Even if they did, it was shattered. I just need to forget about it. It’s not like I knew my mother.”

Nyx took a chance, when she could, to sneak to Arl Eamon’s study. She’d found the amulet there before, and just hoped she could remember the spot. Thankfully, Eamon left it in the top right drawer, which made the searching easy. Nyx clutched it tight to her chest. This thing meant to much to Alistair. Now she just needed the right moment to return it to him. She tucked it into a pouch on her waist, for the time being.

Nyx was determined to travel across the Bannorn, looking for the man that would point them back to Ostagar. After what she’d discussed with Hera, it seemed better to do it as soon as possible. She couldn’t look at Perseus and not hope silently that the sick mabari had not only been successfully cured, but had somehow managed to survive the invasion of the darkspawn. He’d been smart enough to chase down Nyx, before. Surely he could escape a horde of mindless ‘spawn.

Morrigan had started a determined study of her mother’s grimoire, which would lead them south as well. She was grateful to Nyx for having found it, but didn’t bother questioning how she knew of its existence. Both of them knew she’d been through this before. Morrigan started to ask if Nyx knew the contents, but stopped short.

“No,” Morrigan had said, determined. “Whatever there is to learn here, I will discover it on my own.”

Nyx was relieved she didn’t have to tell her what Flemeth had planned. That was, if it had even been true. Between Morrigan and Flemeth, Nyx could rarely tell which way was up.

Along the way through the Bannorn, it was impossible for Zevran and his cohorts not to find Nyx and Alistair, the only true targets of his contract being the Wardens. Cronus was unofficially included in that, Nyx supposed, but it would be a while before he could actually join them. Zevran only needed two heads to collect on.

It was hard not to groan at the obvious trap. Nyx wasn’t sure it was actually that obvious, but she already knew it was intended to trick them, so it was to her. She looked to Hera and nodded, having already discussed what to look for to indicate that the Crows had come. Hera nodded back, and together they stepped forward.

A tree fell behind the group, blocking any hope of escape. They would fight their way out, or not get out at all. Nyx readied her greatsword. She would fight the enemies on the sides, but it was Hera who would go toe to toe with Zevran.

Their styles were quite similar, Nyx noted, and not just because they both preferred the use of daggers to full blades. The two of them had an effortless grace and clever minds. Hera always struck where she needed to the most, and wasted no energy on wild swings. Zevran’s assassin training gave him similar skills. Where a noblewoman had learned to fight like that, Nyx just didn’t know. Though Nyx supposed she was hardly one to talk, brandishing swords that were at least as tall as she was.

“Leliana, look for any traps that could be around!” Nyx called. Alistair did have a nasty habit of hurrying forward like the overeager puppy he was inside, running into all sorts of tripwires on the way. Best to get Leliana on the job before he could stumble into them. “I want all mages aiming at the archers on the cliffs! Sten, to the right, Alistair, with me!”

Alistair nodded at her command. Morrigan had teased him relentlessly for being one who preferred to follow, but Nyx just appreciated that she had received such respect from him. For someone who had once simply followed Tamlen’s lead, Nyx had become something of a natural leader. Then again, following Tamlen was quite literally a lifetime ago.

Hera and Zevran were matching blows. She was growing frustrated with the fight, each swing of her daggers blocked by one of his own. Yet, he was grinning, as if he enjoyed the challenge she provided. Hera figured he didn’t get to fight someone with actual skill that often. Most targets for assassinations were old, rich, and proud. Not people that would be ready to scrap at a moment’s notice.

“Much as I am enjoying this dance,” Zevran said, this time dodging a swipe from Hera, “you are not one of the people I hoped to kill today. I would have remembered if they mentioned a Dalish woman, especially with such striking eyes.”

“If you are attempting to distract me, it’s only working a little,” Hera said. She reached forward with her dagger, and while he was off-kilter from dodging, she swept a foot under his legs. Zevran fell backwards onto the ground with a thud. “I apologize for this part. You may get a nasty bump on your head.” Hera kicked him while he was down, knocking him unconscious. She just hoped it wasn’t overkill. It wouldn’t do to have Zevran awake with a concussion.

Nyx ran her sword through the belly of the last man in front of her, just as she noticed another archer fall from the corner of her eye. With one final shot of lightning, Cronus had taken out their last man. Nyx was grateful. Being prepared for it, the battle wasn’t nearly as bad as she remembered it being. The extra mage did seem to make a big difference.

Everyone gathered around Zevran, once Hera informed them she’d simply knocked him out, rather than killing him. “I thought he might have information on who sent him,” she explained. She and Nyx exchanged a meaningful glance. “Though I hit his head pretty hard. He may take a while to wake up.”

“Tie him up in the meantime,” Nyx instructed. “Just in case.” She tried not to smile as she thought that Zevran would have been so pleased to hear her suggest a bit of bondage. The others would learn about that side of him soon enough.

Wynne did help heal the wound on Zevran’s head, thinking that it might wake him sooner. Leliana and Alistair went to search the bodies of the other attackers, looking for some spare coin or even some useful potions. One never knew what they could find on the dead. Sometimes they would even take an enemy’s blade, if they liked it well enough. It wasn’t exactly like the previous owner had a use for it anymore.

When Zevran finally came to, Nyx was ready. She’d need to convince the others he was safe to bring along. Looking into his brown eyes, Nyx found herself unexpectedly blushing. It sometimes escaped her memory that she’d slept with him before, on multiple occasions, while they were on the road. Images of the lonely nights kept warm by Zevran swept through her mind. She had to look away and remind herself that those had been different times, with a different Zevran.

“Ugh...my head,” Zevran said, blinking slowly until he could finally keep his eyes opened. “This is not how I was expecting to wake up. Which is more confusing, because I did not expect to wake up at all. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am an Antivan Crow, sent to kill the remaining Ferelden Grey Wardens. Lucky for you, I have failed in that attempt. I’m sure you must have questions but—ah—if not, I would ask that you hear my request.”

“Who hired you to kill us?” Nyx asked. The others needed to hear this.

“A rather taciturn fellow, with dark hair. Loghain, I believe his name was,” Zevran said.

“Why am I not surprised,” Alistair said. “Guess that means he knows we survived Ostagar.”

“Just what we needed. With all the darkspawn, I kept thinking we didn’t have enough people trying to kill us yet,” Cronus said. “If he is loyal to Loghain, he must die.”

Zevran backed away, shoulders jerking uncomfortably against the pull of his restraints. “I was only hired for a service. My loyalty was not offered, nor given. I was loyal to the Crows, in taking this contract. Now I have failed, and for that, they would kill me.”

“Let us save them the trouble,” Cronus said, a fist balled around his staff.

“Wait!” Nyx said. “You said you _were_ loyal to them?”

“Yes, well, it hardly seems right to remain loyal to people who wish to kill you. Wouldn’t you agree?” Zevran said. “By the way, might I ask who tied me up? I’d like to compliment the fine job they’ve done.”

“That would be me,” Hera said. “I could gag you too, if you’d like.”

“Ah, the Dalish woman with the lovely eyes. I see you have a feisty spirit, as well. I like that,” Zevran said with a smile. Nyx expected Hera to groan, but when she peeked over, Hera was smirking in amusement.

“How much were you paid for this?” Hera asked.

“Considering work as an assassin, are you? Well, I’d think twice, in that case. It doesn’t pay very well and I am, in fact, poor as a country mouse. I don’t even receive payment until the job is complete, so for this...nothing. And as you already know, the Crows have an awful severance package,” Zevran said.

“Then why work for them at all?” Hera said.

“Not much of a choice in the matter, I’m afraid. The Crows bought me as a boy, at quite a bargain I’m told. But don’t let the sad story fool you, they do keep one well supplied. Wine, women, men, whatever it is you fancy,” Zevran said with a wink.

“Were you to meet with Loghain again?” Nyx asked. Flirting was well and good, but there was time for that later. Not that she could ever convince Zev to take a break from it.

“No. If the contract was fulfilled, I would return to the Crows, and Loghain would be informed by someone else. If I failed, I would be dead, and I don’t think Loghain would care to see me then,” Zevran said.

“If?” Leliana said.

“What can I say, I’m an eternal optimist,” Zevran said. “Though I admit, the chances of succeeding now are rather slim.” He laughed, but it faded quickly. “No, I don’t suppose you would find that funny. But here’s the thing. I failed to kill you, and the Crows believe my life is forfeit, yes? Thing is, I like living, and people like yourselves tend to give the Crows pause. So, let me serve you, instead.”

“Are you joking?” Cronus said.

“Not at all, actually. Not that any of you would be able to appreciate my jokes, if I were trying to tell one,” Zevran said.

“Not loyal to the Crows, not loyal to Loghain… Would you be loyal to us?” Hera said.

“I happen to be a very loyal person, up to the point where someone would kill me for failing. If you would plan on doing the same, then I suppose I don’t come well recommended,” Zevran said.

“I can’t fault that,” Hera admitted, looking to Nyx.

“So you would help us in exchange for our protection, in a sense?” Nyx said.

“That was the concept I had in mind, yes. Not that I couldn’t manage on my own, with my wily ways, but there is—as they say—strength in numbers. And in gaining me, you also gain my numerous skills, from stealth to picking locks,” Zevran said. Nyx would warn Leliana about keeping her lockpicks close at hand with him around. “I also know a great many jokes, twelve massage techniques, six different card games, and more. I’d be great at parties, no?”

“We could always use more help with the darkspawn. I mean, you brought me and Cronus along, I can’t say your standards are that high,” Hera said.

Cronus growled behind her. “ _I_ wasn’t trying to kill them.”

“Well I was, when we met,” Hera said with a shrug. “And you’re a grump, so there’s always that.” Alistair snickered quietly, unable to contain it.

That earned him a glare from Cronus, who spoke again, “So what’s to stop him, or _you_ , from trying again?”

“Me? I’ve chosen to reform my previous ways. As for him…” Hera said, glancing down at Zevran. “That’s a good question, actually.”

“You do greatly outnumber me, so it would be something of a challenge were I to try. Otherwise, I suppose, you would just have to take the chance and trust me,” Zevran said.

“Do you think we’re that stupid?” Cronus said.

“Think? No, but I was hoping you were,” Zevran said. “Ah, haha, well… I mean to say, I was hoping you were...merciful and kind people who would allow me to keep my life?”

Nyx smiled. “Untie him,” she said. “Zevran, you are welcome to join us.”

“What, really? I know we took her in,” Alistair said, with a pointed look at Hera, “but the assassin? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“We could always use the help,” Nyx said. “He’ll prove to be useful, trust me.”

“You’re certain about that, are you?” Alistair said. After a moment of silence, he sighed. “Alright, alright, I see your point. But if there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said ‘hello.’”

“A fine plan,” Morrigan said. “I would examine your food and drink more closely from now on, were I you.”

“Fine advice for anyone,” Zevran agreed with a grin.

The others expressed their opinions on the matter, but in the end, no one disagreed enough to argue further. Even Cronus had quit his protesting before long. Hera removed Zevran’s bindings, and Nyx swore she heard Hera promising to teach him the technique later “in private.” It seemed like they would get along, at least.

♢♢♢♢♢

Camp that night was interesting, to say the least. Zevran had his own tent, thank the Maker, but the noises that emitted from it when Hera joined him were questionable at best. Hera insisted to Nyx that he was merely giving her a massage, and a very good one at that. When Nyx raised a brow, Hera rolled her eyes.

“If we had been sleeping together, I wouldn’t hide it. Trust me. I’m not ashamed of what goes on between the sheets,” Hera said.

Nyx didn’t bother responding. What the two of them did together was their business, and Nyx would do her best to respect that. Zevran deserved someone whose interest was earnest, not just a distraction from long lingering pain. A twist of guilt started in Nyx’s gut.

“I hope you’re not making that face because your food was actually poisoned,” Alistair said. “Because Cronus would be so smug if he was right.”

“No poison, I promise,” Nyx said. “Zevran was too busy with Hera for that.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m buying the ‘it was a massage’ story, myself,” Alistair said. He couldn’t look at Nyx for a moment there, and the flush to his cheeks was incredible. She couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“Me neither,” Nyx whispered.

“Anyway, that wasn’t what I came here to talk about. I actually wanted to...discuss what happened at Redcliffe,” Alistair said. “I would have said something earlier but, well I was hoping to catch you alone.”

Nyx closed her hand around the pouch with his mother’s amulet inside. She’d still been holding onto it. Perhaps, the moment to return it was now.

“What about Redcliffe?” she asked.

“I just wanted to...to thank you, for what you did for Connor. Going to the Tower and back was a lot of trouble, and I know there was an easier way to do it. But you chose to do whatever it took to ensure that the Arl’s family was safe. Not many people would do that,” Alistair said.

“It was the right thing to do, difficult or not,” Nyx said. “I will do whatever it takes to make sure those who deserve to live stay breathing.”

“Well, just think. When we end the Blight, we’ll be saving a lot of lives, won’t we?” Alistair said.

“Yes,” Nyx said. “There is that. Though, since you mentioned Redcliffe...” She dipped her hand into the pouch, drawing out the amulet. “...I found this.”

Alistair’s eyes opened wide. She placed the amulet in his outstretched palm, letting him get a better look at it. He held it a little closer to the campfire, to study every detail. There was no mistaking what it was.

“This...is my mother’s amulet. Where did you find it?” Alistair said.

“In Arl Eamon’s study,” Nyx said.

“In Arl Eamon’s…? But I lost it. Destroyed it. He would have had to search for it and mend it and…”

Nyx put a hand on his shoulder. “He cared a great deal for you. More than you realize, I think.”

“Maybe so. Still, I can’t believe you even remembered that I mentioned this,” Alistair said.

“You mean a lot to me, Alistair. I couldn’t possibly forget,” Nyx said. She was leaning a little closer, the passing time only making her bolder. She missed him too much, she didn’t want to stop herself anymore.

Alistair swallowed. “Then, allow me to give you something, in return,” he said. “Do you know what this is?”

She breathed in deep. A rose. _The_ rose. It was funny to think that the same thing that lead Leliana to them was also a precious memory from Alistair. Whatever had happened to it before? Nyx couldn’t quite remember, though during her initial travels it always stayed on her, tucked away somewhere safe. It died slower than she’d known flowers to do. Perhaps Leliana was right about it being from the Maker, and that just kept it alive longer. But even as it wilted, she’d held onto the petals, looked at them when she needed a bit of strength. What had she done with them after he’d died?

“Oh no,” Alistair said. Nyx lifted a hand to her face, finding the tear that had been wandering from her eye. “I’ve done something wrong, haven’t I? You’re allergic. Or, you really hate flowers? Please say something so I don’t feel like an idiot.”

“It’s not you, I swear,” she said. Nyx rubbed her eyes roughly. “It’s beautiful, Alistair. It just reminded me of someone I miss.”

“Someone...important?” Alistair asked. He was being cautious.

“Yes. Someone I lost,” Nyx said.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said. “I just thought, it’s beautiful and I think you’re beautiful and… I didn’t even consider…”

“You couldn’t have known,” Nyx said. “And it’s a lovely thought. Thank you, Alistair. I’ll treasure it.”

“You will?” he said. “Good, I’m glad. I know you’ve had a rough time of it. Even before we met, you were going through so much and here I’ve been, whining about my problems. I just wanted to tell you that it just reminded me that there can be rare and wonderful things even amidst all this...darkness. Kind of, well, like you.”

“I could say the same about you, Alistair,” Nyx said. “Things just feel better, when you’re around.”

“In that case, can we move right past this awkward stage and just skip to the steamy bits? I’d really appreciate that,” Alistair said.

“I wouldn’t mind it.”

Alistair was really blushing now. He started mumbling a bit and scratching his head. Nyx had to chuckle some more, but as soon as he lifted his face back up to look at her, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Alright, alright,” Alistair said. “Bluff called. Damn, you see right through me, don’t you?”

“Just a little bit,” Nyx said. “But just because you were bluffing doesn’t mean I was.”

“Haha, you know what, I think I’ll just be...over there, trying to stop blushing. Just to be safe. You know how it is,” Alistair said. He stumbled awkwardly away in a random direction. He had no clue where he was trying to go, but he’d started walking and now he was committed to it.

Nyx, on the other hand, snuggled up to Perseus. “Hey Percy, guess what?” she whispered. “I think he likes me.” Perseus barked softly in response. Nyx brought the rose— _his_ rose—up to her face and took in its scent. All of this was so familiar, and finally, so right. Whatever else was ahead, Nyx could face it.

♢♢♢♢♢

Before she knew it, they were in Ostagar. Only a few had chosen to go, with others insisting on remaining back at the camp they’d set in the Wilds. Nyx couldn’t blame them. Of any place she knew, this was where the most ghosts would linger. Besides that was the more physical threat of darkspawn. Nothing here was kind.

Alistair had stopped at the entrance to what had been the main encampment. Just a little ways off was where Nyx had first met him. A bit beyond that would have been Duncan’s campfire. The Tower of Ishal loomed in the distance. No signal fire burned there, now.

Nyx stood beside him and took his hand. He had been her strength, now she could return that favor in kind. With a reassuring squeeze, she released her hold and stepped forward.

“Darkspawn approaching,” Nyx said. She looked back at Alistair who nodded. He felt it, too.

It was just three genlocks, an easy feat for the group. Wynne kept to the back with her spells, but all the others rushed forward. Alistair and Nyx went for a frontal attack, with Perseus ramming into the third enemy to knock it down. Hera and Zevran appeared around the back, moving in a pair. The two had been training together while on the road, and were now practically inseparable, even on the battlefield.

With every wave of darkspawn that came at them, they defeated them with grace. The stronger ones provided some challenge, but they were prepared. Wynne could immobilize the enemy and make it easier to strike, while Zevran struck where the creatures were most vulnerable.

Nyx hadn’t considered it before, but their anatomy was disturbingly human. She didn’t know what validity the stories of magisters corrupting the Golden City were, but there was something troubling about a creature so human and yet so clearly not. Whatever their origin, they died just like any human would when a sword ran through them. That much was reassuring.

Nyx had the others get to work on removing the piece of Cailan’s armor that they found on one of the Hurlocks. She wasn’t sure what they would do with it, use it, sell it, or return it to the capital, but she knew it was important not to leave it in darkspawn hands. However, Nyx needed a moment with Alistair, while they were here.

“This is where we met,” she said. “You were worried I was a mage come to yell at you.”

“Am I ever glad you weren’t,” Alistair said. “Say, what did you think of me then?”

Nyx grinned. “I thought you were the most adorable fool I’d ever met,” she teased.

“I never was good at first impressions,” Alistair sighed.

“Nonsense,” Nyx said. “You were perfect.”

Alistair smiled, but looked away and cleared his throat. “We should keep moving. Lots of darkspawn to kill.” Nyx nodded in agreement, and they rejoined the rest of the group.

They found more pieces of Cailan’s armor, as well as the key to the King’s trunk. When they opened it on the other side of the camp, they found documents from Orlais and Maric’s sword. Alistair stared at it, frowning. He wasn’t sure what to make of it or that it even belonged in his hands. He passed it off to Nyx.

“You should keep this somewhere safe. We should return it to Denerim, when we’ve the chance,” he said. Alistair didn’t have to explain why he wouldn’t wield it. It was meant to be an heirloom of the Theirin bloodline. It should belong to the man who would be king. Nyx wished she could explain that it would, indeed, be him. It had to be.

When they defeated the darkspawn necromancer that caused them a lot of trouble along the way, they also killed—or rather, rekilled—the ogre that Duncan had faced. The one that murdered Cailan. When he fell, they found two more blades; a dagger and a sword. Alistair’s reaction to this was much different.

“These...these should go to the Wardens, shouldn’t they?” Alistair said, trying to convince himself.

“Is that what Duncan would want?” Nyx asked.

“That’s nonsense,” Hera said. “Those are fine weapons. They ought to see battle. Duncan would have wanted those to help end this Blight. Let them.”

“It would be a waste for them to sit on display,” Nyx agreed.

Alistair held the blades out from himself, deciding on what needed to be done. Once he reached a conclusion, he handed the dagger to Hera, who put it beside the gift she’d received from the Circle Tower. Alistair would keep the sword for himself. It would be fitting to slay darkspawn with it, and an honor to be allowed to wield it.

“We will do Duncan proud,” Alistair said.

Before leaving Ostagar—for good this time—they took Cailan’s body down from the crude place the darkspawn hung it on. He deserved a King’s pyre, the best they could give. Nyx had done this, too, before. Last time, she’d cared more for the loss of Duncan. This time, she could not help but see Alistair’s features on Cailan’s face, and wonder if he looked similar when he was laid to rest. Nyx had to turn away before long.

The group was making their way towards camp, when a loud barking came from behind them. Nyx thought, for a moment, that Perseus had fallen behind, but she looked beside her and there he was, cocking his head in confusion. He didn’t know what the barking was from either. Hera gasped with delight as another mabari came bounding up to them.

“Is that…?” Nyx muttered, but no one heard her. Hera was already face level with the dog, rubbing its head and cooing at it in a tender voice. Zevran was laughing as he watched her excitedly pamper the mabari with adoration.

“This must be the dog you saved,” Hera said. “It survived in the Wilds after all.”

“That has to be some kind of miracle,” Nyx said.

“It’s a gift from the Maker is what it is!” Hera said. Nyx coughed. “I mean...Mythal. Ach, I’ve been spending too much time with shems lately.” Nyx glanced at Wynne, the wisest among them, who was curiously studying Hera now. Nyx absolutely did not want to tell Wynne what she had done to get here. Morrigan’s morals were not so strict that she cared to lecture Nyx, but Wynne would be furious. And Wynne might make her tell Alistair.

“He seems like he wants to be bonded to you, Hera,” Nyx said. “What shall we call him?”

Hera already knew. “Scooby. Do you like that boy? Do you?” Scooby woofed in response.

“I’ve heard worse names for mabari,” Alistair said. “Like Spot. Wasn’t even spotted, either.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Camp was extra lively with two mabari. Perseus and Scooby got along famously, chasing each other around until they exhausted themselves and fell asleep on top of one another. Hera and Nyx couldn’t stop laughing, and everyone other than Zevran was puzzled by the peace between the two women. Still, it was far easier to accept it than to question it.

Nyx could barely feel the scratching on her back anymore. What ghosts were behind her were falling away as time moved on. She would never return to Ostagar again, and she was at peace for knowing that. Sleep came easier than ever, and the world shifted around until it was ready to greet the sun again.

Morrigan took Nyx first thing when she awoke. “Did you know about this?” Morrigan asked, shaking the grimoire.

“What do you mean?” Nyx said.

“My mother’s plans. What she wanted to do to me to keep her youth. Did you know?” Morrigan said.

Nyx inhaled, then nodded as she released her breath.

Morrigan drew her lips into a tight grimace. “Then you know what we must do.”

Nyx nodded once more. Unlike last time, she would not spare the witch. If Flemeth was truly as horrible as Morrigan had said at their meeting by the eluvian, then Nyx wanted to do whatever she could to prevent further harm.

“Good,” Morrigan said. “I’ve already informed Cronus, as well. Even if you disagreed, he has already made plans to depart today, since we are close. You cannot bring me, for I fear she may simply leap into my body if I’m nearby.”

“We’ll see it done,” Nyx said.

She went to where Cronus stood, readying some vials of lyrium and his staff. His brows were knit tight together, as usual, though somehow they looked even more intense and furious. This emotion could be useful against the witch, using raw fury as fuel, like Oghren might do, but it could easily be a distraction.

“Morrigan told me what you’re going to do. I’m coming as well. This is a powerful witch we’re talking about, who knows what tricks she has up her sleeve,” Nyx said. “I’d also recommend Sten and Zevran. They shouldn’t object to this, though others might.”

“I don’t see why they would,” Cronus said, though he sounded unsurprised. “Morrigan’s life is at stake. This is no time to get a weak stomach over killing someone.”

“If I’m right, it goes beyond Morrigan. Flemeth has plans, and I’m not sure what they are, but a witch as old and powerful as her...they can hardly be good,” Nyx said.

“That’s fine,” Cronus said. “She won’t get to complete them, anyway.”

Nyx had Sten and Zevran join her and Cronus, and prepared to leave camp. Alistair looked confused at being left behind, but she insisted they were just scouting the area and would be back shortly. Hera narrowed her eyes, but Nyx was certain if she took the time to explain, Hera would understand.

Nyx trailed back towards the familiar area of the Korcari Wilds until she knew which way to go. To face the Witch of the Wilds in battle… Nyx wasn’t sure if she ought to be more afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh she has no idea. But you probably do, and I definitely do. But hey more Alistair flirting going on. That’s pretty good. And Zevran! Which is excellent!


	12. For the Better

Flemeth was outside when they arrived, as if she’d been waiting for them. Cronus had lead the group instead of Nyx this time, determined to be the one that confronted the Witch of the Wilds. _Ashabellanar,_ Nyx remembered. The Dalish revered her power, rather than plainly fearing it. Not to say they were without fear when it came to Flemeth, but she had great magic. With mages among the clans running out, there were those that considered magic a cherished art.

The wizened woman smiled at them as they approached. Nyx had spared her life before. Nyx had not thought to trust Morrigan. Perhaps Flemeth knew this as well, or perhaps she just seemed so wise that it made sense to think she knew everything.

_Her eyes are the same_ , Nyx thought. Flemeth was starting to speak, but Nyx didn’t focus on the words. The witch’s eyes had the look of those belonging to a woman much younger than she. Just as the Changeling’s eyes had been. Her skin and hair showed the signs of age, but it was within those bright yellow eyes that Nyx found herself lost.

“I am not some puppet,” Cronus said. “I’m here because I want to keep Morrigan safe from your evils.”

“I see,” Flemeth said. “You care for her. Unsurprising, really. She does know how to wrap a man around her little finger, when she wishes to.”

Cronus’ nostrils flared. Nyx was reminded of the young halla who would play fight, ramming their heads together. Except, mages didn’t charge. Cronus just gripped his staff a little tighter, its cool metal surface crackling with ice where his fingers touched it.

“And what of you, Warden?” Flemeth said. Nyx stood at attention. “Why are you here?”

“You’re dangerous. Not only to Morrigan, but to everyone in Thedas,” Nyx said. Her words were bold but her hands were trembling. “She told me you have plans. Told me you aren’t even human.”

Flemeth threw her head back and laughed. “Is that so? I suppose we could say the same about you.” Nyx flinched. “Everyone has plans, dear girl. But I don’t imagine Morrigan mentioned what these terrible plans I have are.”

“No,” Nyx admitted, “but I trust her more than you.”

“As do I,” Cronus said. “If Morrigan thinks you must die, then you will.”

“I see you are determined, child. Nevertheless, would you allow an old woman one last attempt to bargain? Morrigan wishes to have my grimoire? Fine, take it as a trophy and tell her I am slain,” Flemeth said.

“For you to simply take Morrigan when you please?” Cronus said, voice nearing a growl.

“Ah, yes, that old story. It is one I have heard many times, and told almost as many. No, I would go. Leave Morrigan and watch, at least for a time. It would be interesting to see what she did with her freedom. I may even choose to surprise her one day,” Flemeth said. Nyx thought she appeared almost nostalgic for a future that hadn’t yet occurred.

“Not a chance,” Cronus said.

“What shall it be then?” Flemeth asked. “Since you seem to be running the show, now.”

“You die,” Cronus said. His eyes betrayed him and wandered towards Nyx for a moment. Nyx simply nodded. That was the plan.

“That is a shame,” Flemeth said, “but this is a dance old Flemeth knows well. Let’s see if she remembers the steps.”

Her hands extended in front of her, covered in a yellow glow like cracks over glass. From her fingers came claws, from her back grew wings, and from her skin there were scales. The transformation was impossibly quick, but when it was complete, there was an old woman no longer. In front of them was a dragon.

Nyx didn’t scream. She wanted to, but found she couldn’t. Her hands blindly found the pommel of her greatsword, and she prepared to take the first swing. Nyx was having trouble moving her legs, however. The last time she had faced a High Dragon had been at the top of Fort Drakon. She felt the breath she tried to take tighten a hold in her chest, refusing to release itself. Sten and Zevran rushed ahead of Nyx.

Zevran was pointing to spots where the natural armor of scales protected the dragon. Sten took his advice, focusing his blade on the place where the beast’s long neck met its body. Flemeth roared in agony. Sparks started up in her open mouth. A warning.

“Cronus, move!” Nyx shouted. Together, they narrowly avoided the blast of flames that came at them.

Cronus immediately retaliated with a shot of ice magic. “Fucking attack the thing, will you?” he yelled at Nyx. She nodded. This was no time to lose face. Alistair was far away and safe. _This_ dragon could not hurt him.

Nyx ran, quick as she could, and slid down on her hip beside the dragon’s belly, cutting the softer spot beneath it. Cronus was busy casting protective barriers over everyone. This was no time to get lax on defensive measures. Zevran struck in small spots, finding veins to bleed her over time. Cold or warm, it didn’t matter, blood was blood.

Sten kept Flemeth’s attention, with loud grunts and battle cries to distract from the others as they ran. It never lasted long, however. Zevran got a nasty scrape down his arm, and Nyx was batted to the side by the dragon’s massive tail. They felt like mice trying to take on a mabari. Except, in dragon form, Flemeth was slow on the ground.

She could turn quicker if she took to the air, but her wings would need to gain momentum to lift her, first. Getting behind her seemed the best course of action, until Nyx learned the hard way that her tail was strong and controlled just as well as each of her limbs. The sides were safest, but her back was where the scales were thickest, so they needed to get low and strike at the dragon’s stomach. Which was fine, save for the fact that this slowed them down long enough for Flemeth to turn and breathe fire at them.

It was a battle of constant movement, save for Cronus who could mostly stay around the edge, focused on healing and protection more than being on the offensive. Nyx was shocked to see how talented he was in Creation magic. It was something she associated with Wynne, who had a tender personality. Cronus was gruff and hard. She would expect more destructive schools to suit him.

They were beginning to tire, but Flemeth still seemed perfectly strong. This was not like the Archdemon, weakened and facing many more enemies while ballistas fired on it. Had Nyx known that she would become a dragon, she might have risked the disapproval for the sake of having more backup.

But she had to get back to Alistair. Nyx would not die here. After all, she’d been through worse. Then, she had faced it from afar. Now, she would run at it with her sword tight in her grip.

“Sten!” Nyx called. He came to her without question, and she explained her plan. He nodded stiffly, and gave her the boost she needed.

Nyx, now on the dragon’s back, ran up towards the neck. She had to take care not to slip on the scales, even as the beast started to thrash about in hopes of shaking her. Nyx kept moving, kept going forward. They needed to end this.

She fell, but grabbed her arm around the dragon’s neck and stabilized herself. Taking her greatsword with two hands, she lifted the pommel towards the sky, with the tip of the blade pointing down at the weak-spot at the bottom of Flemeth’s neck. Finally, Nyx screamed, and drove the sword deep into the dragon’s flesh.

The dragon released its death cry, and Nyx struggled as it stumbled and swayed. She ended up rolling off the side, cutting her face on the sharper scales. Zevran was there in time to help her to her feet, running from the beast as it started to fall. A cloud of dust rose in its wake. Nyx shut her eyes to protect them, shielding her face with one arm.

When the dust settled back around them, Nyx stepped forward to reclaim her sword. “ _Ma halam_ ,” she whispered. _You are finished._ Zevran, still standing beside her, looked over. If he had heard, or even understood, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter. Not for the moment.

Nyx stalked towards the door, her heel meeting the wood in a forceful kick. It shook, but didn’t fall. She kicked again, and the old wood gave out and splintered around the hinges. It crashed onto the ground of the hut. Nyx found the grimoire and handed it off to Cronus.

“You should be the one to give this to her,” she said. “You can tell her it is done.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Though Cronus had been able to heal the cuts on her face, there was not much to be done about the ache of sore muscles or the bruises shaped like a dragon’s heavy tail. Nyx threw herself against Perseus and groaned. At least her armor had shielded from more severe wounds this time. She still wasn’t fond of the heavier metals weighing her down, but in close combat it was more necessary to ensure her safety. She couldn’t stop the Blight if she was dead.

When they were in camp, Nyx could at least take it off. She’d remain in plain clothing while she could, sliding into it only when they were readying to leave or she needed to be on watch. Nyx preferred to sleep in her smalls under a large heavy blanket, but given the conditions of traveling, she thought better of it. Ferelden nights were bitter cold, even for a native. How Morrigan survived in what she usually wore, Nyx had no idea.

In Redcliffe they’d picked up proper tents for privacy, though she and Alistair would still talk before separating. Nyx was enjoying the more casual flirtations, but wished more than ever that she could just hurry up and find herself in his tent every night. Perseus was a good substitute for the warmth, but a mabari was definitely not the same as a man.

Now Nyx was getting comfortable on her bedroll, reminding herself what was next. It would be good to get to Denerim soon, to continue on their way to curing Arl Eamon. Yet, the elvhen of the Brecilian forest wouldn’t last long against the werewolves and the curse if she left that alone. Though she still found herself missing Oghren, the dwarves could definitely wait, compared to the other more pressing issues. Besides that, they had already gone fairly far east. To turn back and head westward again would take up even more time.

Nyx wished she’d counted days before. She had no sense of the time they had, even now. The Archdemon wouldn’t just wait for her to figure everything out. Dallying or delaying would risk more lives. She would have to be certain about her every decision. Nyx had once believed it would be easy, to know all the answers. Self-doubt was a strange and frustrating enemy. One she couldn’t slay with her sword.

♢♢♢♢♢

“We’ll be cutting through the forest, on the lookout for any Dalish clans that may still be there. We’ve a Grey Warden treaty involving them, so it would be good to enlist their help while we can. Once we’ve done that, we go to Denerim to find Brother Genitivi and learn what he’s discovered about the Urn,” Nyx said.

She and Hera had managed to find some edible fruits around the Wilds, which made for a decent enough breakfast. While they ate, they discussed their plans. As usual, the others looked to Nyx.

“Is it really safe to wait? The demon may have kept your Arl Eamon alive before, but with it gone, his condition may worsen the longer we delay,” Wynne advised.

“He’s got some of the best healers available looking after him. Now that they know it was a poison, not an illness, they should be able to treat him better, as well,” Nyx said. Plus, she knew he could survive. They had taken a while last time with the delays in Haven. Still, Eamon pulled through. They would need him for the Landsmeet, but the Dalish needed _them_ as soon as possible.

“The forest is on our way, anyway. And I know where to look for other Dalish,” Hera said. “It shouldn’t take long to convince them to join, not with Nyx here.” She paused. “And me.”

“That’s right!” Leliana said, clapping her hands together. “Can’t we look for your clan?”

“Only if they haven’t moved on,” Hera said.

Nyx’s eyes widened. “You don’t know?”

“Know what? If they’ve left? Of course not. I’ve been gone for so long, they could have decided to leave. Given that two of their hunters went missing,” Hera said. “After Ta— After what happened, I just, sort of...ran. I was panicked.”

“Many Dalish will have gone north by now,” Nyx said. Hera hadn’t heard Marethari’s decision. Would she have chosen to stay and look for them longer if Hera had simply run? No. The clan had to have left, still. They would be safe; away from the Blight, away from the danger. “With the darkspawn getting closer by the day, many of them would have chosen to escape the Blight.”

“If that is true,” Leliana said, “then how do we know there will be any of them left for us to find?”

“Because some see danger and turn the other way, while others will stay to defend what is theirs. The Dalish are a proud people,” Nyx said. That, and, some of them were stuck fighting against an ancient curse.

Now everyone looked to Hera for confirmation. “Uh, yeah,” Hera said. “There will be those that stand their ground. We’ll find them.”

“Then we go to Denerim?” Alistair asked.

“Yes,” Nyx said. “As soon as we can.”

Though Nyx couldn’t read his mind, she knew what Alistair was thinking about even before he pulled her aside. There was more business in Denerim than just finding Brother Genitivi.

“When we go to Denerim, there’s someone I’d like to look up,” Alistair said. His glance was shifting the whole time they spoke, landing back on her for mere moments before it fell away again.

“I’m sure we’ll have the time,” Nyx said. “Who...is it?”

“My sister,” Alistair said. His hands seemed fascinating, the way he kept playing with them and staring down at them. “Or, half-sister, really. That starstruck maid that was my mother had another child, Goldanna. I never got the chance to meet her, because I was kept a secret. She probably doesn’t even know about me.”

Nyx bit her upper lip, but said nothing as he continued.

“She’s the only family I can ever know, now, with Cailan gone. My mother died in childbirth so Goldanna is all that’s left. I know she’s in Denerim somewhere, but I’m sure if we ask around someone is bound to know her.”

“Did anyone ever tell you what she was like?” Nyx asked. Of course, no one had. If anyone had described Goldanna, Nyx believed they needed only one word: horrid.

“No. I vaguely know what she looks like. You know, hair, eyes, and a face,” Alistair said. When he joked he could look up and smile at Nyx. “But beyond that, I’ve not a clue. It doesn’t matter anyway, does it? She’s family. They’re supposed to be the ones that love you no matter what, right?”

Nyx nodded, but couldn’t hide the sadness in her eyes.

“You must still miss them a lot,” Alistair said. “I’m so sorry. I know I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“It’s probably about as horrible as never knowing them at all,” Nyx said. Then she shook her head. No need to dwell. “We will find Goldanna when we’re in Denerim. I promise you this.”

Alistair beamed, and Nyx felt her knees grow just a tad weak. “Thank you,” he said. She returned his smile in full, then went to put on her armor again. The world outside awaited.

♢♢♢♢♢

The unexpected can take many forms, because it is entirely that. Unexpected. Sometimes it is in the form of an elven assassin who becomes your closest friend. Sometimes it is a mage offering a dark ritual to save your life. Sometimes, it is a merchant holding a golem’s control rod and handing it off for free. It seemed that day belonged to the merchant.

“What’s the catch?” Hera asked with a snort.

“No catch, I swear,” the merchant said. He was sweating. “Well, okay, the golem itself is located in a town overrun with darkspawn—”

“That sounds like a catch to me,” Alistair said.

“—but it should be perfectly safe for travelers who are so...well armed?”

“If there are darkspawn, we should take care of it, golem or no,” Nyx said. She took the control rod anyway. Shale had been an odd companion, but strong and perfectly capable. Being around him made Nyx nervous, but that was just due to his size. Plus, if she was honest, it might have had a little to do with the fact that Shale had supposedly killed the man that used to hold his control rod.

Regardless, a town full of people needed their help, and it was their duty as Wardens to respond. The merchant was all too happy to take off as soon as the rod was in Nyx’s hands. Whatever he knew, he knew the golem was trouble. Nyx gathered herself and lead the way towards the town freshly marked on her map.

Honnleath was already in disarray when the group arrived on the scene. It forced them back westward, even though Nyx had been set on moving east. Dangers such as this were simply not to be ignored, almost making the decision for her. Bodies were already left hanging at the entrance to the village, as a warning.

Nyx felt an itch on the inside of her skull. It was the sign of approaching darkspawn. Hurlocks and Genlocks came at them in startling numbers, but they were prepared. It was nothing they hadn’t done before. With the whole group travelling together, for the moment, they were also much stronger.

Those with blades rushed forward into the heat of battle, save for Hera and Zevran who skirted around the edges and used stealth to attack. Leliana and the mages attacked from afar, save for Wynne who focused on strengthening and protecting the others. At one point, the mages were flanked, but Morrigan was prepared and transformed into a wolf to fight better up close. Nyx suspected it was her favorite form, since she used it most often.

They cleared the town of darkspawn, but saw few bodies of the villagers. Nyx remembered they had a hiding spot underground, with more darkspawn blocking the way. They’d also need to get there to get the real activation phrase for Shale. She insisted that they look for any survivors before bothering with the golem, and everyone followed her into Wilhelm’s house.

“So, is this something you’ve done before?” Hera asked, keeping her voice down as she walked beside Nyx. “The merchant surprised you but here you seem comfortable.”

“I had...forgotten,” Nyx said, the slightest of blushes on her cheeks. There were more important things on her mind than a single golem in a small village, but it was still something she should have remembered. Not that she would have known where to look for the merchant if she had.

“Distracted lately, huh?” Hera said. She was actually smirking. And...teasing?

Nyx had no idea what to make of that. It was nice not to be hated, but she never imagined becoming friendly with the other woman. Nyx ducked her head down and cleared her throat. “We should keep moving,” she said.

Hera’s face fell back to a frown. She huffed and looked ahead. It wasn’t that easy. It shouldn’t be. Nyx deserved hatred, ire, loathing…

When the darkspawn fell upon them, Nyx was unprepared. She heard someone call her name, but it was distant. Then she looked up into the face of a Hurlock and her eyes went wide. Alistair bashed it away with his shield, then stabbed through its eye.

“You alright?” Alistair asked. He sounded out of breath, despite the small movement. If he hadn’t been wearing armor, Nyx might have heard his heart pounding. “You looked like you...went somewhere, for a moment there.”

Nyx shook her head. “I’m fine.” She drew her blade. There were darkspawn to kill and she was breaking apart. That was becoming a habit.

Finding the villagers gave her something to focus on properly. Amalia, the little girl, needed rescuing if they wanted to get the phrase to activate Shale. Besides that, there was just the good deed of saving a child. Nyx took only a small party through this area, the tighter halls and corners not lending themselves to a large group of people.

Here was also where Nyx had made a mistake in the past. There was a demon below, hiding in the form of a cat, who wanted to take Amalia and possess her. Nyx had hoped to defeat the demon and rescue the girl before, but the demon had killed Amalia, rather than see her freed. They needed to be more clever this time.

Nyx promised to free them both, and give the demon Amalia’s body. First, they needed to lower the wards. The magic was helping the demon keep a tighter hold on the girl’s mind as well as trapping her within. This could take away a binding, but it would also clear Amalia’s head.

It worked as Nyx had hoped. Amalia ran as soon as she saw the demon for what it was, back to her father. Slaying the demon was just another part of a day in the life of a Grey Warden.

With that settled, they were ready to activate Shale. Everyone but Nyx and Morrigan stood a ways back, not trusting the golem not to turn on them as soon as it came to life. Shale had killed his former master—or at least, supposedly he had—and that never boded well. Nyx knew that, so long as they didn’t boss him around and treat her horribly, the only danger Shale would pose would be to birds.

“ _Dulen harn_ ,” Nyx said, holding the rod in front of her. For a moment, Shale remained still as a very literal statue. Yet, given a moment, they could hear a rumbling and cracking as the golem’s limbs started to free from their frozen position. Shale moved as if flexing muscles he didn’t have, then looked at Nyx with unblinking eyes.

“I knew the day would come when someone would find the control rod. And not even a mage this time? Probably stumbled across the rod by accident, I suppose. Typical,” Shale said. As he spoke, there was a constant soft sound of grinding rock. Why Caridin had made it so a golem’s mouth would actually move eluded Nyx. It seemed to serve no purpose besides the aesthetic look of speaking. Actually, now that she was thinking about it, Nyx wasn’t sure how a golem made sound with their voice.

“Er...hello to you, too,” Nyx said.

“I stood here for years, in this very spot, watching those annoying little villagers scurrying around me. I have no idea how long it’s been since I moved last,” Shale said, ignoring Nyx.

“Poor thing,” Leliana said. “That sounds really, really boring.”

“Did the villagers even know you were watching? Creepy,” Alistair said.

“One would think you would be more grateful to the one who allowed you to move again, no?” Morrigan said.

“Oh, another mage. Wonderful,” Shale said. Nyx didn’t bother mentioning that they had two more in their company as well. “Just when I was getting used to the quiet. Tell me, are all the villagers dead?”

“Would it upset you if they were? Or weren’t?” Hera asked.

“Familiarity breeds contempt, as they say. After years stuck as a captive audience, I was as familiar with these villagers as one could possibly be,” Shale said. “Not that I wished their fate on them, no. But it did make for a delightful change of pace. Well, until there were nothing but darkspawn prowling around. I never thought something could be less interesting than the darkspawn, and yet.”

“I’m starting to think we should have just left this thing here and not bothered,” Alistair said quietly.

“Well, go on, out with it. What is its command?” Shale said. He waved his hand, already bored by them.

“It?” Hera said.

“The last one who held that damnable rod called me nothing but ‘golem.’ Consider this an entrenched sense of perversity,” Shale said. There was silence as everyone took in the scene of this odd golem. “It...does have the control rod, does it not? I am awake, so it must. And yet... ask me to do something.”

“Um, walk over there,” Nyx said, pointing to her left.

“And I feel nothing. Perhaps the rod is broken. Almost seems too good to be true,” Shale said.

“Then, you can choose your own path,” Nyx said. “Do whatever you’d like.”

“I suppose. If I can’t be commanded that means I have free will. It is simply...what should I do? I have no memories other than this damnable village, and I’ve not thought of what I could do with my freedom if it were ever granted to me. What about it? It must have awoken me with some purpose in mind,” Shale said.

“There’s a Blight going on in Ferelden. We need to defeat the darkspawn and the Archdemon,” Nyx said.

“It’s one of those heroic types, then? Hmm, I suppose I have two options, do I not? Go with it, or go elsewhere. I admit, I’ve no memory of what lies outside this village,” Shale said.

“You’re welcome to come with us, if you’d like,” Nyx offered.

“Are you certain you want to bring that...thing with us? It could be dangerous. And large,” Alistair said.

“I think we can say for a fact that it’s large,” Hera corrected.

“Right, but dangerous?” Alistair said.

“Just...think of it as a portable battering ram,” Nyx said.

“I suppose. Better than me, anyhow,” Alistair conceded.

“I shall follow it then, for now. I am to be called Shale, by the way,” Shale said.

“Pleasure to meet you. You can call me Nyx, unless you’d rather keep calling me it,” Nyx said.

“I will,” Shale said. Nyx knew what he meant without need of clarification.

They left Honnleath behind, with the hopes that the darkspawn wouldn’t attack again. With any luck, the people could at least run north until the Blight was ended. Better to have their lives than to stubbornly stay in their homes.

When discussing whose turn it would be to keep watch for the first half of the night, they realized that Shale needed no sleep. Nyx didn’t want to rely on him for this job all the time, but it wasn’t like he’d have much better to do while the humans and elves rested. Nyx offered her company, at the very least.

“Actually, I think it would be refreshing to be alone, for once in my life,” Shale said. “By choice, even. Though I will let it know if it is needed.”

“As you wish,” Nyx said. Shale stalked off to a far end of their encampment and remained standing, watching. His legs would never tire, nor his arms or body. Nyx knew that she’d at least gotten a few things right in her previous life. One of those had been destroying the Anvil of the Void. Being a golem didn’t sound like much of a life at all.

Nyx found company with Leliana for the night. Alistair had retired early, but Nyx was finding she just wasn’t tired. Besides, she’d been spending so much time with Alistair, she realized how little she’d spoken to Leliana and all the others. At first, they breezed through conversations that were quite familiar to Nyx, but Nyx found herself asking new questions, gaining new insight.

“What’s the most dangerous thing you ever did, as a bard?” Nyx asked.

“Oh, well there were a lot of things that one might think was dangerous. It was better for me to leave that life behind,” Leliana said.

“Why did you? What changed to make you decide to stop?” Nyx asked. She remembered there had been a woman, but the name and other details eluded her. She relied so much on her ability to remember, but it turned out there was a lot she’d either forgotten or never knew. This new life was a chance to really change that.

“A lot of things. In the end I just woke up one day and realized that wasn’t who I wanted to be. Someone who lied and stole and deceived. It wasn’t a good life, though there are those who will make it seem like the best thing to be. When I found myself in Lothering, there was such a peace to the quiet of the town. The Grand Cleric saw that I was troubled, and without even asking a single question, she took me in as a sister of the Chantry. Perhaps it was another way the Maker worked to get me where I needed to be,” Leliana said. She lied with absolute confidence. It seemed she had never stopped lying, never stopped running.

“Thank you for telling me all of that,” Nyx said. “It can’t be easy to open up to people.”

“You are welcome. And no, it isn’t always, but you are very trustworthy. I feel comfortable talking to you,” Leliana said. “Hey, have I ever told you I like the way you wear your hair?”

“My...hair?” Nyx said.

“Yes, it’s nice and simple. Nothing like the elaborate styles of Orlais.”

“It’s a complete mess, is what you mean,” Nyx said, trying to smooth down the wild pieces that stuck out in places. Her black mop of hair had never been tame, but at least when she was Dalish she spent her days running through the woods and had a decent excuse. As a noblewoman, she felt like it ought to have been tamer, with a sense of regality to it. Some things never change.

“But its such a lovely color,” Leliana insisted. “Black as night, against lovely pale skin. You’re quite beautiful.”

Nyx flushed. “I...thank you. I’m not used to being complimented so much,” she admitted.

“Then I shall have to scold Alistair for not doing it more often,” Leliana said with a sly grin. “And yes, of course I’ve noticed. Everyone has. The way you light up around him is just darling.”

“Oh Maker,” Nyx sighed. But this only put Leliana into a fit of giggles.

“I promise I won’t tease you about it,” Leliana said. “But for Alistair, I make no such promise.”

Before long, Nyx was finally starting to yawn. Her bedroll was kept warm by Perseus, who had gone to sleep much earlier than she had. He snorted when she asked him to move over, but obliged without real complaint. After all, she would cuddle him in her sleep, and Perseus loved that.

Despite concerns over using Shale, it was comforting to know they had a guard who wouldn’t blink or fall asleep or miss any approaching darkspawn. Nyx and everyone else slept soundly and without waking. By morning, everyone was ready to get back on the road. The Brecilian Forest was far to the east, which meant it would be a few long days of travel. Still, they were well rested and optimistic for that first day out. It made for a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m using he/him for Shale only for now. Because this is about all the mistakes of my first playthrough, and I never did Shale’s personal quest that time and never learned that she’s actually “Shayle.” So Nyx doesn’t know yet either. (Frankly I headcanon Shale as more agender because Shale says something like “it doesn’t make a difference now, I don’t care.” That’s really neither here nor there, though.)
> 
> If I have offended in some way with this I apologize! I promise I do plan on having Shale and Nyx talk about it once they know the truth.
> 
> Also I'm thinking since this chapter is kinda uneventful I might post another tomorrow or something. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	13. No Longer

With a good start came an apparently sluggish end. By the time they reached the Dalish, they were worn and tired. They were just glad Hera was there to diffuse any tension, as well as Nyx with the Grey Warden treaties.

“ _Andaran atish’an_ , my friend,” said the Dalish woman who had been standing guard. She was looking at Hera, who of course bore _vallaslin_ that marked her as one of the People. “You have come a long way. I give you the welcome of our clan. These are...curious companions you have. May I ask the purpose of your visit?”

“I’m here on behalf of the Grey Wardens,” Hera said, nodding at Nyx. “They have come seeking aid against the Blight.”

“We have the ancient treaties,” Nyx said. “May we speak with your Keeper?”

“I...one of our own with the Wardens?” the elven woman said in surprise.

“Just travelling with them,” Hera said. “I’ve not joined their ranks, but I know the importance of their cause.”

“As do us all. But times are...unusual, here. I will bring you to the Keeper, he should be able to explain further,” the elven woman said. “Do watch your _shemlen_ friends, _lethallan_. They may be with you, but not everyone here will see that as reason to trust them.”

Nyx’s heart broke with every pointed gaze directed at her. Without Hera the Dalish would not trust them so quickly. Nyx felt more at home here than anywhere else in Thedas, but she was an outsider. A shem. She swallowed, the thought of that word giving a feeling like something was crawling down the back of her neck. Hera was watching her as they moved.

The other night the two of them had spoken about what they would have to do. Nyx reminded Hera of Dalish greetings and customs that she would be expected to know. They reminded one another to use the names of the right gods when they swore. Hera knew these things, but in her mind she was still human, just as Nyx was still Dalish. Just to have the memory of a thing did not mean it belonged to them.

“Ah, Mithra. I see we have a guest,” Zathrian said as they approached. That was a name Nyx could never forget. It was a life necessary to lose. As Loghain would be. As none should be. “One of our own, no less.”

“She is from one of our sister clans. One of the ones to the north. But she travels with Grey Wardens,” Mithra said. A name Nyx had forgotten, but a life they kept safe.

“We were hoping that the Dalish would be able to help against the threat of the darkspawn. They threaten your people just as much as they do the rest of us. The skill of your hunters matched with the armies of humans would be unstoppable,” Nyx said, her attempts at flattery obvious to everyone.

“I remember the treaties, Warden,” Zathrian said. His gaze was ice on her. It softened when he looked back to Hera. “How is it you have come to travel with Wardens?”

“That is something of a long story. _Ir abelas_ , I don’t think we have the time for that right now,” Hera said.

“I understand, though I am curious. _Ma serannas_ , Mithra. You may return to your post,” Zathrian said. “I should introduce myself. My name is Zathrian, the Keeper and _hahren_ of this clan. You are…?”

“My name is Hera. Pleasure to meet you,” Hera said. “My...companion, here, is Nyx.” The two of them wondered if Zathrian noticed her hesitation.

“I wish I could be of more help. I had already sensed the Blight, but I’m afraid my people cannot aid you while we suffer struggles of our own,” Zathrian said. “We would have moved north by now, were we able. But do not allow our troubles to burden you. I suspect they would impact your mission.”

“What troubles are you facing?” Nyx asked.

“That requires some...explanation. Please, follow me,” Zathrian said, waving his arm. They walked behind him silently as he spoke. “The clan came to the Brecilian Forest one month ago, as is our custom when we are in this part of Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers of the forest, but we were not expecting werewolves to be lying in wait for us.”

Hera stared in disbelief. “Werewolves?” she said with a sharp exhale. “I thought none of those existed anymore.”

Nyx didn’t bother pretending to be surprised. She was too tired from travel, and too exhausted from the mix of emotions she had by being among the Dalish again. Everyone else, however, was reacting fairly similarly to Hera.

“I’m afraid that is not true. Our hunters have been bitten, cursed by these monsters. Despite all our skills in healing, we have been forced to kill our brethren to put them out of their misery rather than see them suffer and become beasts themselves,” Zathrian said. “While the werewolf threat lingers, we are in no position to uphold our promise to the Wardens. I’m sorry.”

“Is there no way we can help?” Nyx said.

“The only thing that would help would come from the source of the curse itself,” Zathrian said. Nyx watched for signs that he would falter, but this was a lie he’d told for many centuries. He may have even believed that he was somewhat removed from the curse now. “It would be no trivial task to retrieve this.”

“We are Grey Wardens,” Nyx said, standing proud. “There is no task we cannot accomplish. Tell us what must be done, and we would see your people healed.” She looked to Hera. “This is not just about treaties anymore. This is about people who are suffering.”

“I am...amazed by your compassion, Warden,” Zathrian said. “And grateful for it. If you truly believe you can help us, then I will tell you what must be done. Within the Brecilian Forest dwells a great wolf. We call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated, and through his blood that it has spread. If he is killed, and his heart brought to me, I could destroy this curse. But the task has proven too difficult for even our most skilled hunters.”

“You do not need to risk any more of your people, Zathrian,” Nyx said. “We will find Witherfang for you.”

“You are generous, but take caution as you enter the forest. There are more dangers there than the werewolves,” Zathrian said. “It has a history of carnage and murder, you see.”

Nyx nodded. “We will do our best. Would there be some place we could supply ourselves before we depart?”

“Go to Master Varathorn if you have need of anything. He has weapons used by our hunters and medicines,” Zathrian said. “If you have need of anything else, ask me or my First, Lanaya. The clan’s storyteller Sarel may also have any answers you seek.”

“ _Ma serannas_ ,” Hera said.

The group set up camp a little ways from the Dalish. Hera and Nyx agreed that, while they were welcomed, it was best to avoid stepping on any toes. Staying out of land that the Dalish had claimed for the time being seemed a good start to avoiding that.

Hera went with Zevran and Leliana to speak with Master Varathorn and trade some of their old and worn gear for something more useful. Nyx also thought it wise to stock up on potions made from elfroot. Its healing properties would come in handy if Wynne or Cronus weren’t at the ready. There were plenty of dangers in the forest. Zathrian had been truthful in that respect, at least.

Wynne and Alistair went to speak with other members of the clan to get a sense of what had happened. Wynne thought that if they could pick up from where the hunters had last searched, they would know where to find Witherfang. Nyx stayed back in their camp, away from the Dalish. She saw her history in every face, every structure or statue. The ghosts she thought she had shrugged off with the Changeling’s ritual had merely been replaced with more. It was a feeling Nyx couldn’t shake, nor could she share with some of the people that mattered to her the most. But Morrigan could know.

“I wanted to speak with you,” Nyx said.

Morrigan remained stoic. “Is this about the werewolves and their curse? Or about the Dalish themselves?”

“Probably both,” Nyx admitted.

“Come and sit down, then,” Morrigan said. “We have been travelling for a great while, now. No need to tire yourself further with needless pacing.”

Nyx sat. There was a scent to Morrigan’s tent that the rest of the camp lacked. Something earthy, but spiced. Most likely the smell came from the potions Morrigan would mix. It suited her, Nyx thought.

“Zathrian is lying,” Nyx said.

“That much I had guessed. He says he knows nothing of these werewolves, yet he knows the cure to their curse? ‘Twas suspect from the start,” Morrigan said.

“He created it. A long, long time ago,” Nyx said. “To end it we need to convince him to do so properly, by working with the leader of the werewolves. First we will need passage through the forest. There is a tree, possessed by a spirit, who will let us go through to the depths of the forest if we help him get his acorn back from an old… Elgar’nan, this sounds insane.” Nyx groaned and buried her face in her hands.

“You’re starting to sound like them,” Cronus said. Nyx sat straight as he approached. “Hope I’m interrupting something. These people are as boring as they are stuck up.”

“They have been persecuted all their lives,” Nyx said.

“One could say the same of mages. Doesn’t mean I have to pity them,” Cronus said.

Morrigan looked between the two of them and sighed. “If you’ve come here simply to bark at someone, I suggest you look elsewhere.” She waved a hand at him dismissively.

Cronus’ brows furrowed in confusion, then frustration. He turned back and went the way he came. Nyx was unsure whether he could ever actually be happy about something.

“Do not mind him,” Morrigan said. “He’s not used to being ignored.” She was smiling, a glint of maliciousness in her eye. “‘Twill be interesting to see how he deals with it.”

It was hard to tell if they were actually friends or not. The two mages had practically revolved around one another since Cronus had joined, yet they played games like this. More so Morrigan than Cronus, but the question still stood in Nyx’s mind. Morrigan had some very funny ways of showing affection, at least.

“I believe you were telling me about what lies in the forest? Before we were rudely interrupted,” Morrigan said. Her tone read more as bored than upset.

“Um, well,” Nyx said. Telling Morrigan about the many things they would need to do was a bit pointless. There was only one thing that truly mattered. “What you need to know is that we will be able to cure the hunters by getting both sides to agree that it is time for an end to the killing.”

“Sounds complex. Could we not simply get the wolf’s heart and be done with it? ‘Tis not like your Archdemon is going to wait forever until we’ve enough allies to face it,” Morrigan said.

“Trust me, that would be no easier. The werewolves are protecting Witherfang well. This ensures we not only gain our warriors, but save the most lives we possibly can,” Nyx said.

“Even if these people do not deserve their lives?” Morrigan said.

Nyx blinked. “I know very few people who do not deserve at least a chance at life,” she said.

“Please don’t start in on some self-righteous lecture,” Morrigan groaned.

Nyx tensed. She honestly didn’t know how to talk to this woman. Morrigan was difficult, but Nyx remembered there was a kind heart in there somewhere. Perhaps finding it again was better done by speaking about something else. What that was, Nyx wasn’t certain, but she had an idea she wanted to try out.

“It has been hard to be back among the Dalish,” Nyx admitted. She was staring up at the slowly darkening sky, where the last remnants of sunlight flew through the leaves. “I was one of the few among my clan that did not distrust _shemlen_ as they do here. To have that hatred directed at me…”

Morrigan was watching silently as Nyx spoke. When she saw that Nyx was not going to continue, her thoughts drowning in her mind, Morrigan decided to fill the gaps with words of her own. “I have met few who did not greet me with suspicions. Your Alistair included,” Morrigan said. “You were among the first of those who offered trust. ‘Twas not something I had expected, even as I watched you travel through the Wilds. I suppose that you knew me already explained why you could lower your guard. You already know many of my secrets.”

“I trusted you before that,” Nyx said. “Just not enough, in the end.”

“Evidently so,” Morrigan said. “Was I...was _she_ your friend? This other Morrigan?”

“At one point she was. She didn’t say so until it was too late, however. Though I suppose, neither did I,” Nyx said.

“Her past would have been the same as mine. Alone in the Wilds, with just my mother and the animals for company. Neither accustomed to being surrounded by people, strangers no less,” Morrigan said. “When you are alone all your life, it never occurs to you to feel lonesome. ‘Tis pointless to feel so. You cannot wander out of the Wilds and chat with the pretty young girls your age. Even if you wanted to try, there is a certainty within you that such a venture would end in disappointment. You find more comfort in the howling of wolves, in the skittering of spiders, and in the peace of being skyborne with the birds. Humans become complicated in ways they should not be. Humans complicate themselves even further besides.”

“Sounds like you and the Dalish have more in common than I realized,” Nyx said.

“Certainly not,” Morrigan said. “They are close to nature and pride themselves on it. I was among the nature they wish for so deeply, yet they still find it difficult to touch. I do respect their attempts to hold onto the wisdom of their pasts, destroyed by those who could not possibly comprehend the depths of such knowledge.” She stood after that, her movement quick and sudden. “‘Tis a pity that, like you, they are so sanctimonious. But let us speak no more of this. That girl and the fool are returning.”

Morrigan was referring to Hera and Alistair, respectively. Nyx stood and uttered a quiet, “ _Dareth shiral_.” It was her last chance to freely use the language before returning to her costume of humanity. Hera had probably been using it freely as she went through the camp. Nyx tried to bury the jealousy accompanying that thought. This had been her choice, not Hera’s.

Those who had been wandering the Dalish encampment, learning what they could about the wolves, shared their findings around the fire while Leliana cooked. Hera had brought a couple of fat hares back with her, gifts of friendship from the Dalish. Their stomachs growled in a near perfect unison as the smell of Leliana’s stew permeated the air. Nyx hoped Hera had properly thanked whoever offered the gift.

Alistair mentioned a missing woman by the name Danyla. Her husband was looking for her. Nyx remembered the woman, burdened with the curse. Now she knew there was a cure for the werewolves, as well as the infected elves. Perhaps, she could yet be spared. Alistair also mentioned a sick halla. Nyx would check on her in the morning. She had so loved halla, to the point where Perseus had been jealous of the attention she gave the sick animal before. Nyx hoped her ability to communicate with the beast was not lost as a _shem_.

Hera had gotten a number of the supplies they needed, and offered to find ironbark for Varathorn if they could. “He promised to make something out of it for us. Probably a bow for Leliana. I already got new armor from him as a token of their appreciation,” Hera said, gesturing to her body.

“It does look magnificent on you, my dear,” Zevran said. “And I got a fashionable new pair of gloves.” He proudly showed off the heavily decorated gloves of Dalish make, then shot a smile at Hera.

Hera also mentioned helping get Cammen and Gheyna back together. Nyx was pleased to hear that. She did, however, have to giggle when Hera described how skittish he had been when they asked him if he was a virgin.

“I simply wanted to tell him to seduce her, but he got offended thinking I was coming onto him,” Hera said. “At least it had a happy ending. Probably even happier if Cammen actually beds her like I told him to.”

“It was all terribly romantic,” Zevran said with a laugh.

Those two had been eyeing each other since they got back. It was a surprise to no one when they shared a tent that night. There was no mistaking the noise they made as a mere massage. It was hard not to feel a little prudish with all that going on. Alistair’s blush alone was monumental.

“You know, I’ve wondered about something,” Nyx said. “Being as you were in the Chantry, did you never…? You know.”

“Do I know? You could be talking about licking a lamppost in winter. Is that what you’re asking?” Alistair said with a mischievous grin.

“Now you’re just making fun of me,” Nyx said. Just because she knew the answer didn’t mean she wouldn’t want to hear it again.

“My lady, I would never dare to do such a thing,” Alistair said. “So, what about you? Have you ever ‘licked a lamppost in winter?’” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Nyx had to laugh.

“I have,” Nyx said.

“Oh,” Alistair said. “Was this the person you lost?”

Nyx nodded. “He was my first,” she told him.

“What...happened to him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“He died,” Nyx said. What more she could say was difficult. Saying _he was you_ would raise a lot of questions. Saying _the Archdemon killed him_ would raise about as many. A simpler truth would have to do. “He was killed on the field of battle.”

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said. His hand found hers, and Nyx knew she didn’t need to feel sad. She’d gotten him back. She squeezed his hand and showed him a soft smile to assure him she was alright. “Well, you know, I myself never had the _pleasure_. Not that I hadn’t thought about it. But, you know…”

“Didn’t have the opportunity?” Nyx asked.

“Living in the Chantry isn’t exactly the life for rambunctious boys,” Alistair said. “They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself. That’s not so bad, is it?”

“Not at all,” Nyx said, leaning against him. “Though you’re not in the Chantry anymore.”

“That is true,” Alistair said. “Unless this has all just been a very vivid dream and the Revered Mother will be screaming at me any minute to get out of bed.” He shuddered dramatically.

Nyx laughed. “I meant, you have the opportunity now.”

“I will...keep that in mind,” he said. “My, all your risque talk is going to make my ears blush.” Alistair stared at the stars, unable to bring his eyes down to meet Nyx’s. “You know, I wouldn’t know how to feel if this had all been a dream. Sure there have been the brushes with death, the tragedy, and the Blight looming over our heads like a big, black cloud, but… Well, will you miss it, once it’s over?”

“I suppose there are parts of this I’d miss,” Nyx said. “Certainly not the darkspawn, but...this. This would be something to miss.”

“I agree,” Alistair said. He relaxed himself against her, accepting the closeness. “It may sound strange but, I have really come to care for you a great deal. Maybe it’s just because we’ve been through a lot together. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Or even, I don’t know, I’m just fooling myself.” Alistair sat up, pulling away from Nyx so he could look at her. The flush of his cheeks only seemed to increase as he met her honey-colored eyes. “Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you...feel the same way, about me?”

Nyx felt like she’d waited an eternity for this moment. Now that it was here, she would savor every second. “I do, Alistair,” she said. Her face came close to his, waiting for his next move. Alistair bridged that last gap between him, pressing their lips together. The first attempt was uncertain, but curious as he brought a hand to Nyx’s cheek. They parted for the briefest of moments only to kiss again, more deeply and more boldly than before. Nyx’s arms wrapped around Alistair, gripping tight. Creators, she’d missed this.

When he pulled away at last, to end it, Nyx reluctantly let him go. On his lips were the slightest remnants of pigment, the same ruby red she applied every morning out of habit. Nyx giggled and brushed her thumb across his mouth to remove the messy smudges. It was too tempting to simply kiss Alistair again as his eyes widened with her every touch.

“Was that...okay? Not too soon?” Alistair asked.

“I’m not sure,” Nyx said. “I suppose we could always test it out again, just in case.”

Alistair laughed, bringing his head down so their foreheads touched. “I will have to arrange that, then,” he said. “Maker’s breath but you’re beautiful. I am a lucky man.”

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll _have_ to kiss you again,” Nyx whispered. “But we should get some sleep. There’s still a lot of work left to do.”

Alistair hummed in agreement, then stood and made his way towards his tent. They bid each other goodnight as they disappeared into their private spaces. Nyx lied down next to Perseus, who snuggled up close. Her fingers touched her lips, recalling the feeling of kissing Alistair. She closed her eyes and dreamed of doing it again.

♢♢♢♢♢

Swiftrunner was as stubborn and prickly as Nyx remembered. He wouldn’t trust a word any of them said, particularly Hera as she bore the marks of the Dalish. Nyx even tried to insist that they were attempting to find a way to cure everyone, including the werewolves, but he wouldn’t believe this. Of course, that she at least expected. Only herself, Hera, and Morrigan were aware that this would end with the curse lifted completely. At the first mention of Witherfang, Swiftrunner and the other werewolves ran off into the forest.

“You will never find Witherfang! You and your precious Dalish will all suffer as we have suffered,” Swiftrunner growled as they made their retreat.

“Fat load of good that did us,” Cronus said. “What now?”

“We keep searching,” Nyx said. They just had to progress a bit further. The talking tree was just ahead. She was glad she didn’t have to say that out loud, because it already sounded ridiculous enough in her mind. Wolves, bears, and more werewolves blocked their path. It was like there was no end to the creatures of this forest. When they ran into the wild Sylvans, that was when everyone was really in a panic.

“What in the name of Andraste is that?” Leliana squeaked.

“Sylvans,” Hera said. “This forest is old, and spirits tend to linger here. Spirits possess some of the trees, meaning to protect the forest, but instead, they turn wild. Or so the legend goes.”

The taller beasts made for more challenging combat. They didn’t bleed, so attempting to cut through them just resorted in a number of small cracks and splinters in the wood. At best, it would slow them.

Yet, with a few well placed fireballs from Cronus and Morrigan, the things went up in flames. They just had to be certain to put out the fires before the whole forest was ablaze. It would be more difficult to search for Witherfang if their lungs were full of smog.

The Elder Tree’s rhymes had about half the group snickering, and the other half groaning. What particularly got everyone was his quip about being a “poet tree.” Nyx shook her head, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the dramatic noises emanating from Cronus. She knew exactly what to ask to get the information they needed. All they had to do was get the acorn from the mad hermit, and they could move forward.

They had to stop, however, as they found a collapsed hunter in the woods. He was still alive, but wouldn’t be much longer if he didn’t receive healing. Sten hoisted the elf up at Nyx’s request, and they made a short detour back towards the camp. Morrigan mumbled something about a “bleeding heart,” but made no attempt to fully argue this time. It wouldn’t have been worth the effort. Nyx would always do what she believed was right.

The backtracking wound up forcing them to fight more werewolves. Paths previously cleared of threats had repopulated, and their weapons remained drawn as they pushed their way back through. They at least found the ironbark, though this they could tuck away for safekeeping until their final return to camp. When they ran into the hermit, most of them were just too tired to care about the crazy old man with powerful magic. It was strange, sure, but that was life, right?

Hera remembered receiving a book from Cammen, and pulled it from her pack. The hermit peacefully agreed to trade for the acorn, and they were forced backwards once more. Nyx was almost tempted to simply have the others stay in the western parts of the forest to search for supplies that might be around. But she remembered Danyla, and kept everyone close. If they met with her as a wolf, they would be forced to kill her to end her suffering. Nyx needed her to hold on, just a little longer.

“My joy soars to new heights, indeed! I am reunited with my seed,” the Elder Tree said, cradling the acorn in what could be called his palm. Zevran snickered at this comment, with most of the others left wondering what was so funny. Hera rolled her eyes. “I wish thee well, my mortal friend. Thou brought my sadness to an end. May the sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind, thy roots be strong.”

With that, the way through was clear. Nyx thanked the tree as it returned to its still pose, its one hand closed around the acorn. She lead the way back to the other half of the forest, and approached the gusts that had previously blocked their way. Nyx reached out a tentative hand. The wall fell away, a gentle wind flowing around them as it allowed them to pass.

Swiftrunner was already waiting for them by the old ruins. He growled, “You are stronger than we could have anticipated. The Dalish chose well, but you do not belong here, outsider.” He arched back and howled, summoning more werewolves to his side as backup. “Leave this place!”

The group of weres lunged forward. Cronus was the first at the ready, blasting them backwards with a powerful spell. The rest readied their weapons. Nyx faced Swiftrunner, blocking each swing of his claws and pushing him away. He didn’t need to die. None of them did, if only he would listen to her. She cut at his arm, injuring him just enough for Swiftrunner to recoil.

A roar rumbled through the ground. Sten stabbed through one of the werewolves with his sword. One of Leliana’s arrows stuck fast in another wolf’s eye. Then, there was a howling, more powerful and mournful than any they had heard that day. Nyx lifted her head, knowing exactly who she would see.

The white wolf, Witherfang, stood atop a cliff, his body covered in the vines of the forest. He leapt down in front of Swiftrunner, growling at Nyx until she stepped back. Then, Witherfang turned his head to bark orders—literally—at the werewolves. He howled once more, and the beasts were herded back into the depths of the ruins, only one lying dead at Sten’s feet.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that was Witherfang?” Alistair said.

“It appears so,” Nyx said. “We should follow.”

“The werewolves live in an old ruin?” Zevran said curiously. “Hmmm... I wonder if there are other treasures to be found here besides wolf droppings?”

Plenty more, but that was something the rest would soon learn. Nyx kept Hera nearby as they entered the depths of the strange ruins. All this time and still, she had no more understanding of why the elvhen were involved with these ancient underground places. Eluvians and werewolves aside, what large piece of her own history was she missing? Though looking to Hera beside her, she remembered again, it was hers no longer.

“We haven’t really spoken about this,” Hera said, noticing Nyx’s eyes on her. “How are you feeling being...here?”

“About as odd as you can imagine,” Nyx admitted. “Think how you might feel if we went to Highever now.”

“Huh,” Hera laughed. “First we’d have to kick Howe’s men out of there, then I could think of how I’d feel. Though probably...conflicted. Your people...my people have been more welcoming to me than most people in my upbringing. But I can’t miss how they look at you.”

Nyx lowered her head. No one could miss the hatred in the eyes of the Dalish. It was piercing and unashamed. The elvhen were long filled with righteous fury. One that seemed to miss Nyx, somehow. She still thought of Tamlen urging her to kill the humans in the forest for the safety of the clan, and couldn’t bring herself to see the danger in those frightened men. Maybe Nyx was never meant to be Dalish. Mythal and the Maker had simply gotten them mixed up, tossed their souls in the wrong bodies. Hera certainly carried herself well in the body of an elf.

“It’s better than how the humans of Denerim will look at you,” Nyx told Hera. “Just remember that when we leave this place.”

The first man to utter the words “knife ear” around them would feel the wrath of ages of oppression. Both women would see to that. There was some righteous fury in Nyx, yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been so interesting but also so strange to explore. Lots of weird implications to this swap.
> 
> But the part you really care about, they smooched! And nothing can go wrong after that, right? Right?
> 
> ~~Also hi posting an extra chapter because I can and because I'm in a crappy mood and this makes me feel like I've done something _important_ so...~~


	14. Cursed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Brief rape mention involving Zathrian’s backstory. Check notes at the bottom for some elven translations.

Nyx was cleaning off her blade, again. This place was chock full of monsters of all sorts, from the living dead, to spiders, to a dragon. A small one, sure, but a dragon was a dragon. Zevran was just so pleased to see the stacks of treasure piled behind its corpse once they had finished the battle. Leliana was still disabling a trap as he leapt overhead, going to count the coin and find what other loot was worth pocketing. With luck he would remember to share in the spoils. They would need it for the many shops in Denerim offering supplies.

Wynne was healing bruises and cuts, huffing because Cronus wasn’t helping. He claimed to be low on mana, but didn’t seem too tired or worse for wear. In earnest, he was probably just bored with caring for them time and again with no real reward. Instead, he wandered into one of the empty side chambers, examining some of the artifacts left behind.

“I find it strange that a place that appears to be Tevinter in origin contains so many signs of ancient elves having been here,” Morrigan noted.

“Did elves ever live underground? Like dwarves?” Cronus asked Hera.

Hera shrugged. “I’ve never heard such a thing. Hahren Paivel told lots of stories, but none involving places like this.”

“It may be just another piece of history the elves have lost,” Nyx said. “Maker knows how much there was to lose.”

Hera nodded, then went to count coin with Zevran. The somber attitude such ruminating brought was not something she liked to keep hold of. Nyx felt a familiar disquiet in this place. It was difficult to place, but the ghosts there felt like her own. But they wouldn’t find the answers to any of their questions among the cobwebs and dust. They weren’t there for that, anyway. They just needed to find Witherfang.

A little ways forward, Cronus’ investigations brought him to an odd gem. Nyx was unsure why he didn’t simply pocket it upon discovery, until he started to speak to it aloud.

“Calm yourself, spirit,” he said. “What are you trying to show me?”

“He’s speaking to a rock?” Alistair whispered.

“And how is that strange?” Shale complained behind him.

Alistair jumped a little, having forgotten about the literal golem they travelled with. “Ah, yes, well… You’re a rock that talks back.”

Nyx tried not to laugh. Cronus was turning towards them, explaining that an elven ghost was trapped within the stone, showing him memories of the ancients. Not a spirit of the Fade, but a spirit of the dead. The elf had apparently been some form of mage, with the ability to wield blades as well as staves. Cronus’ eyes gleamed.

“Could you teach me your secrets, spirit?” he asked. Cronus closed his eyes, humming and nodding. What the others could not see was the knowledge that filled him.

He stopped suddenly, lifting the lids over his eyes and carrying the gem to an altar on the far side of the room. It cracked, then shattered, and the ancient spirit was free. Zevran whimpered softly. Shards as small as that wouldn’t be worth much to a jeweler.

“Seems like I’ll be needing a blade once we reach a decent smith,” Cronus said with a smile. Apparently, he wasn’t satisfied with just being a spirit healer. Nyx never thought it suited his personality anyway, but he was still incredibly talented at it. As for being what he called an “arcane warrior,” they’d have to wait and see how good he’d be at that.

There were more and more chambers ahead filled with undead. It seemed like a place as old as this should contain nothing but the dust of old bones at this point, but there were still rotting corpses standing up before them and taking up arms. Perhaps these were the victims of the wolves? Or, even more horrifying, something entirely different? What killed them first didn’t matter much. All that the group needed to do was kill them again, then press on.

Nyx held up her hand, stopping everyone short in the next large chamber. She remembered the whole room being filled with floor traps that started fires and scorched their skin. The smell of burned flesh didn’t leave her nose for days afterwards, and they used all their fresh elfroot on rubbing the wetted leaves onto their bodies. She set Leliana, Hera, and Zevran on the task of finding and disarming traps before they continued.

But there had been undead here before, as well. Now, there just seemed to be the traps. Were they lying in wait? Lulling them into a false sense of security before striking? It seemed silly to do that instead of fight while three of them were preoccupied with checking floor tiles. Plus, the undead weren’t known for their strategies in battle. They were the sort of enemy that charged and charged until there was nothing left of them to swing.

Something wasn’t right. Nyx waited for the first trap, one dead ahead, to be disabled, then stepped forward. Nothing came. Silence fell throughout the room, with two small clicks the only sounds to break into the chamber in echoes. Those working on the traps were shifting, looking for any more on the ground around them.

“Stop,” Nyx said. They did, and lifted their heads to look at her. “I don’t think we’re alone here.”

As if the words themselves summoned something, shadow gathered in the center of the room, rising to form Shades. Four of them were molded from the shadows, with a fifth shape creating what looked to be some kind of abomination. Nyx and Hera stood stiff as they watched the person only they could recognize come to life in front of them.

“It has been too long, my friends,” the Changeling spoke, his voice an amalgamation of distorted growls. “I thought you would come here sooner. That you would seek out your people, but it seems I misjudged you. That will not happen again. I will not give you the chance.”

Nyx’s blood ran cold as ice, but Hera’s boiled. He’d chosen to show himself now, here, in the middle of all things. The Shades bobbed around him, willing servants under an abomination’s rule. They would not attack without his command.

“What do you want from us?” Hera demanded.

“Child, I wish nothing more of you. It is just her, the Warden. Good to see she’s back where she belongs,” the Changeling said, chuckling. “You have what you wanted, but you didn’t pay your price. Instead, I have paid for you. This cannot be allowed. For what you’ve done to me, I will take back what I gave you.”

Nyx shook her head slowly. Take the time he gave? The body? Neither could be good, truly, so it didn’t matter. Just so long as they stopped him from taking it. But she couldn’t speak.

“What is…?” Alistair began.

“You stay away from them you foul creature,” Wynne said, stepping forward. “We will not hear your lies and we will give you nothing.”

The Changeling laughed again. “You know so little, Wynne,” he said. If Wynne was shocked that he knew her name, she did not show it. She’d dealt with demons and abominations before, and she would not allow this one to cause her to fear. “How much has Nyx told you? Anything? Nothing?”

“Enough!” Hera shouted. She’d drawn her daggers. “You die here!” She ran towards the Changeling, but was stopped by one of the Shades. She tried to cut it, but her blades mostly just swept through the near-formless creature like it was made of thick cream. Hera jumped backwards as it approached, and the battle had begun.

Wynne launched a fist of pure earth and stone at the Shade attacking Hera, forcing it back a ways. Magic seemed to be more effective, striking harder. Leliana took up her bow and shot at the second Shade, attempting to swoop in on Hera from the left. Zevran hurried to give her backup, as well.

Cronus and Morrigan focused their attacks on the creatures towards the back, eliminating the smaller enemies before taking on the Changeling himself. Shale and Sten supported them, running ahead of the others to take on one Shade each. Wynne attempted to cast a spell of petrification on the Changeling, but he shrugged it off as soon as it hit him.

“You will know. You will remember. I will splinter your minds until you can see me,” the abomination said.

He charged up magic, sparking and breaking in his hands. It was wild and messy, eating away at the space around it. He thrust it forward at Wynne. Nyx felt like she’d just woken up as she moved to pull the elderly mage out of the way of the blast. It struck the ground instead and caused fissures in the stone.

Alistair ran forward, then, straight at the Changeling. The confusion had held him in place, as well, but seeing Nyx move to protect Wynne brought him to action. The Changeling was laughing as he dodged each swing, bringing up the same broken magic in the palm of one hand.

He tried to push it towards Alistair, but Nyx was at the ready, cutting through the Changeling’s side when he least suspected it. With a loud _oof_ the magic dissipated and he stumbled backwards, blood spilling from his fresh wound. The Changeling grimaced, reaching out to grab Nyx, but Alistair blew the hand back with his shield.

Two of the Shades fell, and those previously fighting those turned towards the Changeling. Shale charged up the gems embedded in his stone fists, and threw a punch at the abomination filled with spirit energy. Leliana fired a flaming arrow which struck the Changeling’s shoulder. He screamed in agony and slapped at the burning flesh until the flames died. Another Shade died.

The Changeling sent those close to him whorling back in a charge of magic that rung through their ears, dizzying their minds. Nyx fought to regain focus. Hera had been right. He had to die here. They could not live with this threat over their heads forever.

Nyx charged, bringing her blade to crash into him in a downward arc. It scraped his flesh, but he pushed back to avoid it. The last of the Shades fell, and Sten was free to fight. Sten cleaved into the Changeling’s back and watched as he screamed in pain. The distortions of his voice hurt their heads as he released an inhuman shriek. He disappeared, reappearing by Cronus and Morrigan on the other end of the room.

He swiped blindly at Cronus, who cast a spell of ice over the abomination to freeze him. It didn’t last long, but it was enough for the two mages to get away. The Changeling stared as Cronus passed.

“ _You_ ,” the Changeling gasped. He stumbled back as he thawed.

Cronus saw recognition in the Changeling’s eyes that Cronus himself did not have. The recognition shifted fast to dawning horror. Morrigan tried to stop the creature with a rune underfoot, but the abomination flashed to the far end of the room, ahead of all of them. He was clutching his side and breathing deep and weak.

“It appears I have been hasty in my attempt to claim your body,” the Changeling said. “No matter. I will...attain...more power.” He lifted a hand, the broken magic swirling in his palm before engulfing his form. “See you soon, Nyx Mahariel.”

The Changeling vanished. Hera didn’t wait a single second before going to stand beside Nyx. Whatever happened next, they were together, for better or worse. Nyx was perplexed by this gesture, though not ungrateful.

“What...was that?” Alistair breathed, the first one to speak.

Nyx ducked her head down to her chest and searched for words she’d not been ready to speak. This was far sooner than she’d hoped. She heard Hera’s voice starting to explain.

“We can talk about that later,” Hera insisted. “The werewolves are still a problem, for now.”

“Oh, fuck the werewolves,” Cronus said. “I want to know why an abomination would attack us and talked like he knew you. He looked like he knew _me_. Was that something from the Circle Tower that I don’t remember? From the Fade?”

“No, I...it…” Nyx muttered. Her breath was trapped in her lungs, held prisoner. She tried to inhale but instead started up a fit of sputtering coughs. Alistair was at her side in an instant, holding her gently and brushing the hair from her face.

“You’re shaking,” he said. “Maybe Hera is right.”

“Just promise me one thing,” Wynne said, taking the tone of a grandmother prepared to scold them. “Promise me the two of you haven’t involved yourselves in dark magic.”

“I promise you, we haven’t,” Hera said. She was at least a confident liar. Bold enough to convince Nyx to nod along with her.

“He’s...from our past, but not like you’d think,” Nyx said. Vague enough that it didn’t have to be a proper lie. It seemed to be what Wynne was looking for, because she dropped it.

Alistair helped Nyx to collect herself after that. He sat with her off to the side, letting her lean her forehead against his chest and take slow, shaking breaths until her heart could calm down. The metal armor he wore was cold and hard, but she could feel him, all that he was, surrounding her. It was enough.

The three who had worked on the traps earlier scoured the rest of the room for more things to disarm or unlock. Zevran broke a couple of lockpicks by the end, and Hera broke one on a particularly difficult chest. Leliana tutted, showing the two of them how it was done. At least they all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Cronus, however, had stalked off, mad as always. Morrigan followed. They spoke in hushed, but desperate whispers. Few paid attention to them, but those who did noticed stolen kisses so full of hunger that it made them blush. Save for Zevran, who saw and simply chuckled. His advances with the witch had been rebuffed, and now he suspected he knew why.

The others simply waited, counting supplies or taking some other task to pass the time while they waited for Nyx to lead them again. She looked up at Alistair, finding his eyes and holding his gaze. “I keep falling apart,” Nyx said. “Why am I leader when I can barely hold it together?”

Alistair blinked, wrapping his head around what she’d just asked. “Who would be better?” he said.

“Hera kept calm through all of that. She started the fighting,” Nyx said.

“Yeah, but she’s not a Warden.”

“Is that all that matters? That I’m a Grey Warden and it’s the Blight?”

“No! No, of course that’s not all there is to it,” Alistair said quickly. “I mean, it’s part of it but, that’s not the only reason. You’re brave and willful and clever. You do everything in your power to ensure that we find the peaceful solutions and keep people alive. You could so easily just kill anyone in your way but you don’t, Nyx. That’s admirable.”

“But is it leadership?” Nyx said. “I’m just...tired of standing in front of everyone and losing my nerve. But I can’t seem to make it stop. My mind just freezes and it gets so hard to breathe and I...fall apart.”

“You don’t stay that way, though. You keep going. You get back up. That’s leadership,” Alistair insisted. “No one expects you to be perfect, Nyx. Maker knows none of us are. But you have been the best thing for this, for all of this. None of us could have seen that abomination coming. But now we know he’s out there, and we’ll be ready for him if he ever comes back. That’s...all we can do, really.”

Nyx leaned her head against his armor again, pressing her cheek into it instead of her forehead. “Thank you, Alistair,” she said softly.

A few moments later, Nyx stood with him, ready to do what they’d come for. As much as she hated to show weakness, it was nice to have someone to show that weakness to without fear. Alistair believed in her, and that gave her strength even when she thought she’d run out.

“Oh, yeah, just one more question,” Alistair said. “What was it he called you? Mahari...”

Nyx blanched. “I don’t know,” she lied. “It was probably meant as some kind of insult.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Fighting the werewolves felt normal compared to what they’d just experienced. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a relief when they finally relented and agreed to talk, however. A few in the group were skeptical that the beasts actually meant peace, certain that it was a trap, but Nyx lead them through to where the wolves’ lair was anyway, without fear. She would not fall apart again, not when the lives of those cursed depended on her.

The Lady of the Forest had the sort of disturbing, haunted beauty one might expect of a spirit. Her eyes were wide and entirely black, shining like the shell of a beetle. Her hair fell sleek and oiled down her naked body, appearing wet though she was completely dry. She had green skin, and the vines that grew around her appeared more like veins popping out from her body than overgrowth. When she spoke it was lilting and echoey, like she was in a faroff chamber calling from the other side.

Swiftrunner was suspicious of their intentions. The Lady calmed him, and opened up about the deal they offered. Nyx agreed without hesitation, promising to bring Zathrian and convince him to break the curse for all of them, properly. No one disagreed with this decision, and they climbed the steps back towards the exit.

Nyx was not surprised when Zathrian appeared by the entrance to the ruins. He had been following them for some time, she was certain, waiting here to see that he received the heart as soon as possible. The others might have trusted them because of Hera, but Zathrian would trust none of them so long as the curse remained to haunt him. He had lived too long, sustaining himself on the lives lost to the beast.

He was angry with Nyx when she said that they agreed to take him to speak with the Lady, but she was insistent. Even when he tried to show he knew better than her, Nyx shook her head.

“I already suspected that the Lady was Witherfang. They had the same vined pattern and she claimed to command perfect control over him. This does not matter. They have been honest about the atrocities their ancestors committed as well, and I sympathize with your pain, but the men who caused you to suffer are long dead. Those that survive them do not deserve to bear the weight of this curse, and your people do not deserve to bear it either. Please, Zathrian, at least speak with her,” Nyx said.

“What will speaking accomplish? Those men took everything from me, and they have attacked my people even now. You say they have changed, they deserve mercy, but how can that be true if they have hurt and killed so many of our young hunters?” Zathrian argued.

“There have been losses to both sides. See with your own eyes the changes, and decide for yourself if they are worthy of forgiveness or not,” Nyx said.

Zathrian scowled, but relented just enough. “I still don’t know what good it will do, but I will talk with them, if that is what you really wish. Just promise me that you will defend me if this is meant as a trap for them to exact their revenge.”

“We will protect you,” Nyx said, “so long as you are not the first to attack.”

Zathrian grunted. He didn’t appreciate the distrust, but of course Nyx knew it was fully deserved. She just hoped the others realized they needed to be on guard, as well.

Zathrian spoke with the Lady, who revealed that he hadn’t aged because of the curse’s ability to keep him alive. Their lives were tied together, and so long as they both lived, the curse would go on forever. It was obvious to everyone now that Zathrian needed to end this.

“Your people suffer the curse as well. The hunters who you stand to lose by being stubborn, their lives are at stake. You could save them, save everyone for good. The werewolves could be gone forever if you just let go of your hatred, Zathrian,” Nyx begged.

“We have to do what’s right here,” Alistair said, standing beside her. “You must see that.”

“I do see. I see that my people have suffered at the hands of shemlen for many long years. I’ve been alive to see many lifetimes of their hate, and they never change. Even if these men aren’t the same ones that raped my daughter and killed my son, they have surely done the same to other Dalish men and women. To other elves. If they’ve not themselves, surely their friends or brothers have hurt our people. _Hahlam sahlin_ ,” Zathrian said. He raised his staff into the air, summoning Shades and waking Sylvans to help him fight.

Nyx commanded the mages to focus on the Sylvans, their fire burning the tree creatures with ease. Leliana helped as well, her fire arrows serving her well as she kept away from the main fight. Those expert in close combat focused on the Shades, while Hera and Nyx were the only two to go after Zathrian himself. She trusted the other woman to have the restraint needed.

“Is this truly worth it, Zathrian?” Hera shouted. Normally it didn’t do to draw attention to herself in battle. Her anger forced her words. “Would you sacrifice what is good for your people for your vengeance?”

Zathrian didn’t respond, but fired a spell like one of Wynne’s at her, the stone fist smacking her gut and sending Hera flying backwards. Nyx came up behind, striking with her pommel to knock him off of his feet. She couldn’t kill him, even if she wanted to. He needed to live to perform the magic that ended the curse.

“Your people believe in a trickster god, do they not?” Nyx said. She spoke as human, but her heart filled with the history of the elvhen. “Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, is hated for how he fooled the gods and doomed your people. Would you do the same? Trick them into believing the magic of the ancients is returning to keep you alive? Doom those who have already become werewolves to being trapped in that form? Do you not see the irony of the wolves in your curse?”

“Do not speak to me of my history,shem! _Ma dirth banal_ ,” Zathrian hissed.

“I know more than you realize, Keeper,” Nyx said. She bent low, to where he remained on the ground. The battle surged around them, but it was like things had gone quiet in the small space between them. “ _Ir abelas_ , I wish I could explain everything to you, but know this: Danyla, who has been made a wolf, may still live. To cure them is to cure one of your own, as well as the hunters back in camp. Please, see reason. _Nadas halam_.”

“Who… _are_ you?” Zathrian said, his voice growing quiet after the pause.

“A woman who understands your desperation, Keeper,” Nyx said. “And one who knows that you can still die a hero for your people. Shemlen are not all monsters, not as you may wish to believe. Please, give them a chance to live.”

“But you…” Zathrian began, but he allowed his mouth to close. “Help me stand.”

Nyx extended her hand, and brought the Keeper to his feet. He slammed his staff on the ground, and the Shades and Sylvans that had not yet been defeated disappeared or returned to their forms as trees. Nyx’s companions were confused, watching the fight end so suddenly, then they looked to where she stood with Zathrian.

“ _Ma serannas_ ,” Nyx said, just loud enough for him alone to hear.

“I might not understand who or what you are, Warden, but I see there is more to this world than I can understand. Perhaps I have lived too long, and I cannot see past my hate.” Zathrian stepped forward, towards the Lady of the Forest. “Spirit, your life is bound to this curse just as mine is. Do you not fear your end?”

“You are my maker, Zathrian,” the Lady said, “You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things, I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you maker, put an end to me. _We_ beg you, show mercy.”

“You shame me, spirit,” Zathrian said, sighing deeply. “I am an old man, alive long past his time.”

“You will do it? You will end the curse?” the Lady of the Forest said.

“Yes. Yes, let us put an end...to it all,” Zathrian said. He glanced back at Nyx once more, and said, “Mythal guide you, Grey Wardens.”

The werewolves surrounded their Lady, their heads bowed as they waited for Zathrian to end his curse. He took his mage’s staff in both hands, lifting it up before crashing it on the ground in a flash of light. His knees buckled beneath him, his eyes closing as he started to fall. Zathrian was dead. The Lady lifted her hands to her mouth, a gasp of sorrow escaping her. The light from his staff spread towards her, enveloping her in its yellowish glow.

Her arms fell back at her sides and her head tilted back. Her eyes closed in an acceptance of the death that awaited her. The wolves howled around her, a mournful cry at the loss of their Lady and a celebration and the end of their curse. They too were surrounded in yellow light, their shape changing and reforming to those of human men and women. The spirit was gone.

The humans stood naked, some stumbling to cover themselves shyly. Nyx had some of her friends find the bedsheets from the other rooms they saw before to wrap the people in until they could find them proper clothing. Hera was lucky enough to find a few pairs of pants and some shirts for a few of them. The rest, it seemed, would have to make due.

“I can hardly believe...she’s gone, it’s over. We’re human,” a man said. Though he’d lost the growl, Nyx recognized the voice beneath it as Swiftrunner.

“What will you do now?” Nyx asked.

“I suppose we will try to return to find other humans. See what’s out there for us. It should prove quite interesting. We cannot thank you enough for all you’ve given us,” Swiftrunner said.

“Do me one last favor then, if you truly wish to thank us,” Nyx said. “Use this new chance, this new perspective to facilitate peace between humans and elves. It will not be easy, but it must be done.”

“I doubt they would forgive us for how we hunted them,” Swiftrunner said.

“And you doubted that Zathrian could offer you the peace you sought,” Nyx argued. “People will surprise you, if you give them the chance.”

Swiftrunner smiled at that. “Then I promise, we shall try.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Zathrian’s body was returned to the Dalish, so they could honor their Keeper and hahren as he should be honored. They told only Lanaya the truth of him, insisting that the clan needn’t know. They deserved to mourn the man they knew and loved, not spoiling their memory with the knowledge of his bitterness. Lanaya agreed to this.

She took his place as Keeper, and invited the Wardens to stay for the funeral, as they had helped the clan. So much so, that a Dalish woman stumbled into the camp moments after their arrival, looking pale, but very much alive. Athras ran when he saw her, pulling Danyla close and weeping with joy. Nyx nearly cried, as well, at the sight of the man’s relief.

They helped the hunters prepare a feast to celebrate the end of the tragedy and the life of the Keeper they loved. Leliana offered to sing for them as a gift. The Dalish all widened their eyes in surprise as the bard started to sing _In Uthenera_. There wasn’t a dry eye among them as they sent Zathrian into the Beyond.

“Warden,” Lanaya whispered, standing beside Nyx, “I wanted to inform you before you leave tomorrow that our people will be readying ourselves for battle. Now that our hunters are cured, you will have those healthy enough to fight at your side. We will honor the treaty, as you have honored us with your help. _Ma serannas, lethallan_.”

Nyx smiled at the familiar term. “I’m just glad it has ended. Thank you,” she said. “We will call for you, when you are needed. Make sure Master Varathorn sees that ironbark gets good use.”

Lanaya nodded. Their archers would be deadly. The darkspawn would fall in great numbers to their arrows, Nyx was certain.

When they were all too tired to go on, they made their way back to their own camp away from the Dalish. Cronus and Morrigan had left much earlier, inseparable after their return. Nyx decided she was just happy so long as they were happy. Hera and Zevran snuck off on their own, as well, thankfully more quiet after many requests from the previous night. Nyx watched Alistair with curious eyes, wondering when he would pull her towards his tent.

“You’re staring, dear lady,” Alistair said with a smirk. “Enchanted, are we?”

Nyx giggled. “Deeply entranced, yes,” she said. Nyx stepped forward and placed a soft peck on his lips. “Going to sleep?”

“Very soon. I’m not certain I can keep my eyes open much longer after all that excitement,” Alistair said, an involuntary yawn emphasizing his words. “But if you wanted…”

“No, no,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “We start towards Denerim tomorrow. Everyone should get some rest.”

“Then, in that case, I will have to leave you with this,” Alistair said, then grabbed her and brought her close to kiss her. Her fingers brushed through his hair and pulled his face closer as her mouth opened in an invitation. Alistair was nervous to try, but explored this in the end, kissing her deeper. Nyx pulled away slowly, licking his upper lip.

“Goodnight, Alistair,” she said, then sashayed away to disappear into her tent. Nyx was so tempted to look back at his face, but resisted the urge. Though she did fall into a fit of muted giggles on her bedroll as she pictured him with a longing stare, watching her hips sway as she left. Nyx forgot all thoughts of regret when she remembered that she had him. A world without Alistair was not one she wanted to be a part of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Changeling is ba~ack! And with a vengeance. How long can Nyx keep this secret, though?
> 
> Next chapter is the start of Denerim! And we’re getting another new character in! Who is it? You’ll see. ヾ(･ω･｡)ｼ
> 
> Hahlam sahlin - This ends now  
> Ma dirth banal - You know nothing  
> Nadas halam - This must end


	15. Protection and Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Rape mention warning.

The past few days had been weary, but blissful. It was clear to everyone that there were some well established couplings amongst them at that point, but even those who weren’t romantically entangled felt the general mood lifting as they went.

Cronus was far less grumpy, which was the first thing that stunned them all. Hera and Nyx were not only civil, but they actually started to talk and relate more, getting along fairly well. Alistair followed Nyx like a puppy, though he would never admit to it. Sten might have found these distractions to be annoyances, but it did keep them from bothering him too much when he wished for his privacy, so he took what positives he could out of it.

Shale was pleasantly surprised when Nyx came across some augmentation crystals and helped to set them into his stone body. Nyx made sure to reassure Shale that they were definitely slimming and very pretty, and tried to keep from laughing when the golem declared he wanted to glitter from ear to ear.

“Most nobles I’ve met felt the same,” Nyx said. “I’ll let you know if I find anymore. We can pick the best colors for you.”

“Hmm...I am partial to blue. Or perhaps a nice violet. I shall think on this. It has been most generous in offering to search for more. Thank you,” Shale said.

With camp set a fair distance from the city, the more conspicuous of their group remained behind to protect their belongings while the rest entered Denerim. That did mean Shale and Sten had to stay. While a hornless Qunari might just turn a few heads, a golem, even one that was smaller than average, would force them to stop and answer a few questions for the city guard. Since Grey Wardens had been declared enemy number one by Loghain, drawing less attention was a good idea.

Perseus was just pleased to be along for the trip, this time. Nyx had left him with Sandal at the Brecilian Forest, to keep him from any major harm. Denerim would be a safe enough place for the pup, even if they did run into bandits or the like. Humans were things a mabari could handle without fear, but Nyx hadn’t wanted Perseus to go up against Sylvans and werewolves. Scooby, Hera’s loyal hound, was also trotting alongside the group.

A Dalish woman and her mabari were probably an odd sight as well, but there was no way that Hera could have been convinced to be left behind. She did promise to keep to the side and mostly out of sight, taking on some of the odd jobs that needed doing around town with Zevran and Scooby. Cronus and Morrigan parted from the main group as well, with Wynne following behind them to ensure they kept out of trouble.

“I won’t have people calling the templars suspecting them as apostates,” she insisted when Nyx asked why she was leaving. “Especially since one of them _is_ an apostate.”

Nyx agreed that having someone look after them was a smart idea, and let Wynne go. Since the others were taking on some work to gain more coin, Nyx, Alistair, and Leliana went around the marketplace to resupply themselves after the journey. Leliana also kept an ear out for any gossip about recent events. Perseus was working as well, serving as a guard dog from any ambitious pickpockets that wanted to try their luck with heavily armed targets. Not every pickpocket was smart.

“Hey!” a man shouted suddenly. He had grabbed hold of a girl in a cloak, squeezing her wrist and shaking her. “I saw you take that. I do hope you planned on paying you knife-eared brat.”

Nyx snapped to attention at that comment, and hurried over to intervene. She would hear no protests attempting to stop her.

“I’ve coin, ser, please let me go and I can… _ow!_ ” the elven girl said. The man was crushing her arm in his fist.

“Do you take me for a fool, girl? I know you’ll run off the moment you get the chance,” the man barked.

“Excuse me,” Nyx said. “Whatever it is she took, I’d like to pay you for it.”

“And who’re you?” the man said.

“Just a passerby who doesn’t want to see this escalate any further than it needs to. Please, how much do you want for…” Nyx started, looking to what the girl held close to her body.

The elf was thin and frail, and had stolen a loaf of bread. Nyx’s heart sank into her chest. Of course she was starving. Many people in the Alienage were, even those who had work as servants or maids.

“Here, a silver should be more than enough. No need to call the guard,” Nyx said.

“She’ll just be ‘round tomorrow,” the man said. “Your generosity is wasted on shits like these who will never learn to better themselves.”

“Actually, I think my coin is wasted on a man like you who doesn’t know when to simply take his money and shut it,” Nyx said. He had at least released the elven girl, who stumbled back, but didn’t run. She was studying Nyx curiously.

“Aw, sod off,” the man grunted. “And I better not see you around here again, or I will call the guard on you.”

Nyx put a protective arm around the elven girl and lead her away from the angry merchant. The girl lowered her hood, revealing a long braid of white hair, with long curled wisps falling in her face. Though her hair was pale, her face was still that of a young woman, with large eyes like sapphires staring at her rescuer.

“Thank you,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what you think I can give you in return, but I’m not prepared to offer my services to you, so if you wanted that then—”

“I think you’ve misunderstood,” Nyx said. “I don’t need any favors, I simply didn’t want to see you hurt. My name is Nyx. Can I ask what to call you?”

The girl was silent for a long moment, contemplating. “Artemis,” she said at last. “My name is Artemis Tabris. And I promise you, no matter your kindness, you do not wish to become involved with me.”

“Why is that?” Leliana asked.

Artemis was suddenly quiet again as she noticed the two others with Nyx. She mumbled out a response, but none of them understood what she said. Even Perseus tilted his head and made a sound of confusion.

“Would you mind saying that again?” Nyx said.

“I’m wanted,” Artemis said, just barely audible. “For murder.”

“O-kaaay,” Alistair said. “Perhaps we should talk about this somewhere away from prying eyes and ears and...other body parts that might not like hearing that someone is a wanted killer.”

“Agreed. Let’s go to the tavern. Maybe get you something to eat besides some...moldy bread,” Nyx said, wrinkling her nose as she noticed the green splotches on the food she’d just paid good silver for. “Rotten bastard,” she hissed under her breath.

The Gnawed Noble Tavern offered such fine cuisine as lumpy grey stew and ale, but anything was better than picking around the molded bits of a loaf of bread. By the way Artemis ate, they could safely guess she agreed with that sentiment, and that it had been a while since she’d gotten a proper meal. Leliana and Alistair made conversation while Artemis finished her stew.

“No way. I don’t believe you at all,” Alistair insisted, crossing his arms.

“I’m not lying, Alistair. Sten is a big, cuddly, softie. I saw him petting a kitten the other day. And earlier just today, he picked a flower and sniffed it. Complete softie,” Leliana said.

“Surely that’s against some part of the Qunari code or something like that. It’s next to the rule about frowning all the time and never, ever having fun, ever,” Alistair said.

“Well, maybe we’re rubbing off on him too much, then,” Leliana said.

Nyx couldn’t stop giggling as she listened to the two of them go on. She had to put a stop to it when Alistair started daring her to use her bard skills to sneak around and play pranks on people. Fun as that sounded, they couldn’t risk attention being drawn to their little table.

“Because of me?” Artemis asked.

Nyx blinked, having nearly forgotten their guest. “No, because of us,” Nyx said. “Are you willing to tell us about yourself now, though?”

“If you want to know so badly,” Artemis said, “I suppose so. Can I ask why, first?”

“Why, what?” Alistair said.

“Why you want to know about me?” Artemis said. “I’m a stranger. But you saved me, fed me, and you’re asking questions. Did you want to know about a bounty on my head? Because I don’t know that I have one. Or even that they’re really looking for me anymore. They should be, but I don’t know for sure that they are.”

“Maker’s breath, nothing like that,” Alistair said. “We just...well, we’re good samaritans, right?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Nyx said, shrugging. “I was hoping we could help you so you don’t have to just wind up stealing again tomorrow.”

Artemis looked between the two of them, then over to Leliana beside her, who offered a smile. Artemis’ ears ruddied a bit, at that. “That’s very nice. But you can’t help. I know that much already,” Artemis said.

“Please,” Nyx said, “let us try.”

Artemis sighed, but decided to open up. She explained how she had been arranged to be married, as was custom with many families in the Alienage. Marrying and having children was a way of surviving life for city elves, but Artemis had wanted no part of it. She was reluctant to say the full reasons why, but she mentioned also wanting to leave the city and see the world. Artemis couldn’t do that if she were stuck mothering some elven man’s children that she wanted no part in having.

That much she could deal with, however, until Vaughn appeared. Son of the Arl of Denerim, and a monster in every way. Artemis struggled to explain how she, her cousin Shianni, and her other cousin’s betrothed were all taken captive, meant as playthings for the little lordling and his friends. It wasn’t unheard of, but for it to happen on a wedding day in the Alienage was a particularly large insult. It spat in the face of one of the few joys they were allowed.

Artemis had meant to rescue Shianni and the other woman, using her skills with a bow to fight off anyone in her way. She made it all the way to Vaughn to find that Shianni had already been raped and beaten. Even at that point, the lordling had the gall to offer hush money to Artemis so she would spare his life and let him have his fun.

“I shot him in the eye,” Artemis said. “So he couldn’t touch anyone else ever again. After that, I panicked. I realized what I had done, and I just ran. I don’t really know how I got out of there, but I ran and didn’t look back. I ditched the bow and arrows, figuring they would be on the lookout for an elf that was armed. I found a cloak and snatched it, then went into hiding. I would have left the city but...I wanted to still look out for my cousins from afar.

“Soris wound up arrested in my place, I’ve no clue where he is now. He could well be dead. Shianni is back in the Alienage, still safe, I’d assume, but they’ve closed it off. No one is allowed back in. Something odd is going on in there. I claim to be from outside the city whenever someone asks.”

Nyx knew some of what happened in the Alienage, but she had no way of getting in to stop any of it yet. She wished there were something to say to reassure Artemis, but the only thing she could have said was that it was about as awful as one might fear. No one cared for the plight of a few elves.

“That is terrible,” Leliana said. “I am so, so sorry, Artemis. I wish I could offer more than that. Maybe we could help look for your cousin?”

Artemis shook her head. “If he’s anywhere, it’s either Fort Drakon or the Arl’s own dungeon. But he should have been freed if it were the second place, because the old Arl, Vaughn’s father, died. Rendon Howe has taken control since then.”

Nyx’s hands balled into fists. She hadn’t forgotten, but hearing it again refreshed the anger she felt. Alistair put an arm around her. It was a nice comfort, but not as nice as knowing that before the Landsmeet, they got to watch him die again.

“Seems like we might have a common enemy, then,” Alistair said.

“You said you were good with a bow?” Leliana noted.

“Yes,” Artemis said. “What of it?”

“Nyx, perhaps we should take her along with us. She wanted to see places outside of Denerim and someone who is a talented archer could be of use to us,” Leliana said.

“Of use to you how?” Artemis asked.

“We’re Grey Wardens,” Nyx said quietly. “The last two true Wardens in Ferelden. We’re working to end the Blight that threatens the land.”

“Then, all that is true? The darkspawn are going to come and kill us all? Eat us alive and crunch our bones?” Artemis said, a shudder running through her.

“The Blight is real, yes, but if we do what we’re supposed to, we should be able to prevent a lot of the whole ‘eaten alive’ bit,” Alistair said.

Nyx gently nudged him under the table. That wasn’t helping Artemis with her nerves. “We wouldn’t force you to come along, but it doesn’t sound like you’ve got many options right now. And we could always use more help, if you’re willing,” Nyx said.

Artemis looked around again, then jumped slightly. Perseus was shoving himself under the table, licking her hand. He wanted her to come along also. Nyx told him to heel. He whined in protest, but did as he was asked. Artemis actually started to laugh a little.

“What’s his name?” she asked, leaning to the side to get a good look at the mabari.

“Perseus,” Nyx said. “He’s friendly, I promise. He’s just a bit pushy and opinionated when he wants something.”

Artemis smiled and reached out to rub Perseus’ head. “I’ve only ever been chased by mabari. I never thought they could be so sweet,” she admitted. “I suppose...travelling with you wouldn’t be a terrible idea. It’s just that...I don’t have a bow anymore.”

“We’ve actually still got Leliana’s old bow, back at camp. The Dalish gave her a new one of slightly finer make, but the other is still strong ironbark,” Nyx said. “We’d just need to get you a quiver, really.”

“You’ve been with the Dalish?” Artemis said, astonished.

Nyx, Alistair, and Leliana spent the next few minutes sharing stories of their adventures together. They thought it only fair to warn her about some of their more colorful companions, as well. Artemis was still quiet when she spoke, but had a genuine interest in what they had to say. She asked loads of questions about mages, demons, the Dalish, and the Grey Wardens.

“I met one of them, actually, before I ran away,” Artemis said. “A man by the name of Duncan. He was...not like most humans. He was kind and a good friend of my father.”

Alistair lowered his head. “Duncan was a great man. He was among those who died at Ostagar,” he said. Nyx laced her fingers with his in support.

“I’m so sorry,” Artemis said. “There are rumors about that, as well, so you know. There are many who don’t believe Loghain’s stories about the Wardens being at fault. Having met you, I can’t say I’d believe him either.”

Nyx knew the starting doubts of those like Bann Teagan. There were those who had seen the darkspawn terrors with their own eyes, and knew better. They needed Eamon back, however, if they were to do something about it. Of their known allies, he alone held the political power to call a Landsmeet. It was hard knowing that this was what needed to happen, but being unable to say so.

“We should look for Brother Genitivi,” Nyx said. At least they were already supposed to be trying to help the Arl. “Since we’re finally in Denerim, we’ll need to work towards finding the Ashes.”

Alistair and Leliana nodded in agreement, but Artemis was cocking her head. They’d have to explain on the way. For now, they gave her a spare dagger Leliana kept on her person, so she would at least have some form of defense. The streets of Denerim were not always safe, after all.

♢♢♢♢♢

Weylon’s imposter was acting suspicious, and this time Nyx didn’t even hesitate to charge towards the back room. When he attacked them, she’d been ready with her greatsword to cut him down. Artemis shrieked as he fell, but none of them felt remorse when they found the real Weylon’s body, covered crudely in a sheet, his eyes still hanging open in horror. Nyx closed his lids, letting him rest.

The maps pointed them to Haven, the small, unheard of town that was meant to house the Ashes safely and in secret. Among Genitivi’s messily scrawled notes were mentions of cultish activity, but none of it specific enough for Nyx to bring it up. Still, Nyx knew enough that she could at least vaguely warn the others that the environment would be hostile when they arrived.

“Whatever the cult is that he mentions, the impostor was one of them,” she said, producing a letter from his pocket. “Brother Genitivi may be with them, held captive. If they don’t want people finding this place, it might explain the missing knights, as well. They weren’t afraid to kill Weylon, and he was unarmed. We will need to be on our toes when we get there.”

The other three nodded in agreement. Perseus barked. Nyx couldn’t mention the dragons or the Gauntlet. Those things would have to explain themselves when they arrived. Hera and Morrigan would be given full warning, once Nyx had a moment to speak with them alone. For now, they would wait for the others to regroup before returning to camp.

Which was when Alistair mentioned Goldanna again. “I think this is her house, from the information I received,” he said, standing in front of the small hovel that was his half-sister’s.

Nyx tried for something sounding like optimism as she said, “Would you like to go in and speak with her?”

“If we can, yes,” Alistair said. “Listen, I know this is my family but I’d feel a lot better if you were there with me. In case I...well in case I’m not sure what to say. Besides, I just feel better when you’re around.” A gentle pink rose in his cheeks.

“Of course, Alistair. I’m with you, always,” Nyx said. Alistair had Leliana, Artemis, and Perseus join as well. Just as extra backup. He was sweating as he reached for the door, rapping his knuckles against the wood. A heavily accented voice from within beckoned them to enter.

“You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won’t find better within city limits,” Goldanna was saying as she continued working. She hadn’t even looked up at them yet. “And don’t trust that Natalia woman. She’s foreign and will rob you blind.” She finally looked up, rubbing her hands together as she approached them.

“I’m...not here to have any wash done,” Alistair said slowly. “Are you Goldanna?”

“That’s the name my mother gave me, yes,” Goldanna said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look much like my regular customers.”

“We aren’t. Customers, I mean,” Alistair said. He looked to Nyx, who nodded encouragingly at him. “My name is Alistair and well, I suppose I’m your brother.”

Goldanna stared at them like they’d suddenly grown two extra heads apiece. “What sort of tomfoolery are you folk up to?”

“Please, he’s telling the truth. Just listen to what he has to say,” Nyx said.

“Our mother was a servant, at Redcliffe Castle, a long time ago. Before she died. Do you know about that? She—”

“ _You,_ ” Goldanna breathed. “I knew it! They told me you was dead. Told me the babe died with _my_ mother, but I knew they was lying.”

“They told you I died? Who? Who told you all of this?” Alistair asked. Nyx wished she could make this awful woman disappear. There was no way someone this horrid was related to someone as kind as Alistair.

“Thems at the castle!” Goldanna shouted. She was pacing, throwing her hands up and gesturing wildly as she spoke. “I told them the babe was the king’s and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to shut my mouth and sent me on my way.”

“I’m sorry I...I didn’t know. The babe didn’t die. I’m him, I’m...your brother,” Alistair said. For all Goldanna’s rage Alistair returned it in a quiet glumness. This was nothing like the fantasies he had. Nothing like the dreams he’d been shown in the Fade.

Goldanna was still ranting. “Fat load of good that does me. You killed mother and left me to scrape by on my own. That coin they gave barely lasted a few days, but soon as I went back they ran me off.”

“Alistair is not to blame for your troubles,” Nyx said. She’d say anything if she could shut this woman’s flapping lips. “He wasn’t the cause of your misfortunes.”

“And who’re you, anyway? Some tart following his riches?” Goldanna spat. Nyx’s whole body tensed in anger.

“Hey! Don’t speak to her that way!” Alistair said, stepping forward. “She’s my friend and a Grey Warden, just like me.”

“A prince _and_ a Warden? Well I shouldn’t be thinking so poorly of one so high and mighty as yourself, then. Not when I’m some lowly peasant,” Goldanna said, though she moved back at Alistair’s advance. “Listen, boy, your royal father forced himself on my mother and took her from me. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing. They tricked me good. I should have told everyone of the king’s little bastard.”

“I...I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” Alistair said.

“You are rotten,” Nyx said through clenched teeth. “Alistair came here with the genuine wish to meet his family, and all you can talk about is coin. Is that really all you care about?”

“It really seems that way, doesn’t it?” Alistair said. “I...I’m starting to wonder why I came.”

“Well, I don’t know why you came either. Whatever you’re looking for, it ain’t here. Now get out of my house, the lot of you!” Goldanna said, pushing them towards the door. “Out!”

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving them on the darkening streets of Denerim. A slight chill ran through them, the night air greeting the huddled group. Alistair was staring down at the padded dirt of the ground. Nyx didn’t know what had happened to Goldanna after the Blight last time, but at the moment, she was hoping that awful woman was taken by the darkspawn and eaten.

“Well,” Alistair said finally, lifting his head, “that was...not what I expected, to put it lightly. This is the family I’ve been waiting for my entire life? That shrew is my sister? I can’t believe it. I always thought family accepted you without question. That’s what they’re supposed to do, isn’t it? I...I feel like a complete idiot.”

Nyx took his hand. “You’re not, Alistair. She’s an idiot for turning away someone as wonderful as you without even giving you a chance,” she insisted. “But it doesn’t matter. You don’t need her when there are others who care about you already.”

“She’s right, Alistair,” Leliana said. “You have a family among us. I know it isn’t the same, but we look out for each other and care for one another. That is a real family. Blood doesn’t matter, but choosing to stay by someone’s side and accept and love them does.”

“I...thank you. Both of you,” Alistair said. He held Nyx’s gaze for a long moment. “We should find the others and get back to camp. I’m...not feeling much like talking, anymore.”

Nyx nodded.

Hera and Zevran were not too difficult to find, as they were already making their way back. They’d completed a few tasks for some mercenaries and a few shady anonymous folk, and were bringing back enough coin for them to afford some of the nicer meats and produce, as well as a nice quiver full of arrows for Artemis. They introduced their new companion while they waited for the mages. The mages, however, arrived in the midst of an argument.

They’d taken on some jobs for the Chanter’s Board, because while Cronus detested them and Morrigan didn’t particularly like them either, coin was coin. That was not what their argument was about. Wynne was upset that they were going on jobs for a Mage’s Collective order in Ferelden. Helping fellow mages was a good thing, in her book, but not when those mages were all apostates and maleficarum. She was fuming, and the only thing to calm her down was an introduction.

Artemis made kind, polite chatter with the older woman as they started back towards camp, practically hired as the key distraction. Leliana sidled beside them, having noticed the sometimes shy manner in which Artemis spoke. Sometimes all she needed was a gentle push of support to get her going again, which Leliana was well used to providing.

Hera and Zev had joined in by the time they were at camp, curious to know the mysterious elf from the Alienage. Zevran cheered when Artemis retold her tale of killing Vaughn. Hera smiled with pride, as well. Nyx knew the feeling. Elves rarely got to see justice for the fates they suffered at the hands of entitled nobles. Being noble herself, now, Nyx wanted to do everything in her power to see that righted.

Cronus had actually picked up a blade while in the city. It was of fine make, and lighter, making it easier in his untrained hands. He still kept his staff, which helped amplify the power of his spells when needed, but was liking the idea of close combat. When at camp, Cronus walked to a private spot to practice swinging it, getting a feel for the weight and movement.

The others talked long into the night about their exploits during the day, but before long, Alistair was falling silent. Nyx knocked her knee against his to get his attention, then mouthed, “What’s the matter?” Alistair shook his head, then started to stand.

She followed him back towards their tents, where they were set next to each other. Though they no longer slept under the stars, there was this aching need for all closeness they could get. Nyx wondered if Alistair had done this as consciously as she had, or if he simply felt it was right. The two of them, together, side by side.

“I feel like I should thank you, for today,” Alistair said. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I appreciate that you took me to meet my sister and that you were with me...you were so supportive and you’re a true friend and…” He sucked in air and ran his hands down his reddened face. “I love you. I just...wanted you to tell you that.”

Nyx took his nervous hands and urged him closer. “I love you, too,” she said, like it was the most precious secret she held. For a time, it had been. Now she could say it as much as she wanted. That knowledge was not lost on her as she placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Maker,” Alistair sighed. “Every time I’m around you I feel like my head’s about to explode and I just...I can’t think straight. Wait, no that sounds bad. Okay, start over.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but Nyx just kept smiling. She’d been patient this long, she could wait a few moments for Alistair to muster the courage he needed. “Being around you makes me _crazy._ I can’t imagine being without you, not ever. I don’t want to move this too fast but…”

“Alistair,” Nyx said, “please, spend the night with me. I’ve wanted this for longer than you know.”

“I...oh,” Alistair said. “I mean, I feel like I should try better to woo you first.”

“No need. Consider me ‘wooed,’” Nyx said, trying not to giggle.

“It’s just, you know I’ve never done this before.”

“I can show you what to do. Trust me. I want you, Alistair.” Nyx cupped his cheek, kissing him again, a little harder this time. Then, she took his hand and guided him back towards his tent. She wanted to be there, where she could smell the traces of him on his pillow and bedroll. Where she could curl into his arms and know she was his. Where he could remember that she’d been there during the times he might be in his tent alone.

They’d already removed their armor before supper, so that hefty inconvenience was out of their way. Nyx started with sweet kisses, encouraging Alistair to touch her as they laid back. Beneath her, he ran his hands down her back, stopping them at her hip bone. She pulled her body up, naturally forcing his hands to slide further down until they cupped her butt. Nyx rolled back to lean into his touch, sighing into Alistair’s mouth.

“You can touch me however you’d like, Alistair,” Nyx said, staring into his eyes. “I _want you_ to touch me.”

Alistair just gulped and breathed deep. Nyx sat up, moving her legs to either side of his waist so she was straddling him, and pulled off her shirt just slow enough to tease. She stayed there for a moment, delighting in the way his eyes traveled down to her chest.

Alistair still required some guidance before he overcame the hesitation, so Nyx took one of the hands that had come to rest on her hips and pulled it up her body. His fingers trailed along her belly, a gentle ease to the movement until he was squeezing her breast over her bra. She relaxed into his touch and sighed sweetly.

Alistair hardened beneath her. She bit her bottom lip once, then leaned down for another series of kisses. Alistair had boldened, hands groping wherever they pleased. He palmed her tits, delighting in the softness of her skin and the way they molded to his grasp. Nyx ground her hips against his trousers, and smiled as Alistair released a moan. Every so often, when she touched him just right, he’d mumble the Maker’s name in a gentle plea.

Alistair slid his fingers beneath the fabric of her pants, tugging them downwards. Nyx helped him, pulling them off and freeing herself with a little kick. She pulled at his shoulder, flipping their positions so that Alistair was lying on top now. He supported himself on his hands, nervous that putting his full weight into her might hurt.

Their bodies were both toned from battle, the heavy armor and weapons they lugged around all day keeping them strong. As warriors, this also gave them much needed stamina. Perhaps for Alistair’s first time it wouldn’t matter, but in the future—and that there was such a future in front of them was a lovely thought on its own—he would make good use of it.

Nyx pushed her hands up under his top, wasting no time in getting it off so she could kiss down his neck to his bare chest. She had the advantage in many ways, one of which was knowing where and how to touch him. When Nyx pinched his nipple between her middle and forefinger, Alistair released a groan of such sincere satisfaction it was hard not to giggle with delight at her success.

Nyx sucked at the flesh near his collarbone, then kissed her way back up to take his lips again. She loved how Alistair’s little bit of stubble tickled her cheek. It used to remind her that they were different. No elf could grow hair like that. Now, it was just another reminder that he was _real_. Each sensation was like that, his movement and warmth telling Nyx that he was alive and in love with her. Alistair _loved_ her.

They were growing impatient, and near tore the remainder of cloth separating their sweat-slicked bodies off of one another. Alistair copied some of her lead, sucking her porcelain skin hard enough to leave marks around her breasts. Nyx gasped his name as he took her nipple into his mouth, pulling with his lips then licking.

His erection pressed hard against her stomach, twitching whenever she cried out like that. Alistair groaned, the pull of his cock nearing a tenseness that could become quite painful if he didn’t do something about it soon. He knew well enough the general area in which he should “stick it” (the boys he’d grown up beside hadn’t been blessed with vocabulary), but he’d also heard it could hurt the woman if he was rough. But her hips kept bucking beneath him and _Maker’s bleeding breath_ Alistair wanted to fuck her.

“Should I…? That is, um…” Alistair whispered. He felt quite the fool, lying here naked with a woman and babbling. He should have prepared. Asked Zevran for advice maybe. No, not Zevran. _Absolutely_ not him. Leliana? Who would have been least likely to laugh at him?

Nyx gazed into his eyes, already breathing heavily from sheer anticipation. She saw the way his brow furrowed and brushed her fingers down his cheek. Then she kissed him again, pulling on his bottom lip when she moved back to speak. “Would you like me to show you?” Nyx said.

“I…” Alistair started, then paused. “Yes,” he admitted.

Nyx smiled, pressing her lips to his more sweetly this time. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve had years to get to know my own...anatomy. I’m at a bit of an unfair advantage here, to be honest.”

She took his hand, leaning her face towards his ear to whisper to Alistair as she guided him. Nyx felt his breath, hot against her skin, and shivered. She dragged his calloused fingers over her thigh, reminding him that a little teasing never hurt. When Alistair’s finger pressed against her wetness, she arched against him. Even knowing when it was coming, there was something different about being touched by him that just wasn’t the same as when she was doing it alone.

“That’s where you put it in,” Nyx said. She pushed one of his fingers into the warm hole and rocked into it.

“It’s so wet,” Alistair said softly.

“Mmm hmm,” Nyx hummed. She stopped riding his finger and brought his hand upwards to her clitoris. “And this is where I’m most— _ah!_ ” Alistair had started to rub her of his own accord, causing Nyx to shake with delight. “Ah, Alistair…”

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

“It feels _incredible_ ,” Nyx said. “But I...I want you inside me.”

Alistair lifted his head so she could see the flush in his cheeks. The mix of action and embarrassment made his whole face red as a tomato. He was so cute, so handsome, so…

She loved him. Nyx loved him with all her heart. Any regret or guilt she felt from coming back for Alistair was washed away with every touch or stolen glance. Every kiss they shared eased the pain that still lingered in memories of what was.

“I won’t hurt you?” Alistair asked.

Nyx shook her head, offering a kind smile. “I promise, you won’t.”

Alistair hesitated for a moment longer, but started to reposition himself after that so the head of his erection could slide easily past her folds. Nyx took a breath, waiting for him to move again.

Alistair thrust into her, and the air flew out of her in a soft cry. Nyx threw her arms around his back, looking to grasp something. He pulled back and bucked his hips back to push as far into her as he could. At first, his movements were erratic, desperate for the friction of skin against skin. But with a quiet plea from Nyx, he started to slow.

She set the pace for Alistair, who needed only to follow. He always did take direction well. Nyx dug her nails into his back as they naturally sped up together. She heard Alistair take a hissing breath as her nails pressed against his skin, and forced her fingers to relax.

“Sorry,” Nyx managed to say.

Alistair slowed for a moment. “No,” he said, pausing between each panting breath, “it felt...good.”

_Oh,_ Nyx said. That wasn’t something she’d remembered. She was pleased to know there were still things left for her to learn about Alistair. Or perhaps, the two versions of the same man did carry slight differences? That was a thought that would be better to contemplate later, when Alistair wasn’t sighing her name and thrusting his cock deep inside her.

Nyx clawed at his back, and felt him shudder at the roughness. Alistair wasn’t going to last much longer. Nyx pulled him into a kiss, just before his tip pressed against her center one last time. His warm, thick seed filled her as he spasmed, breaking the kiss to cry out in pleasure. A moment later Alistair was leaning into her limply. Nyx could feel his heart beating hard against his chest, in time with hers.

Nyx brushed a hand down the back of his head, pecking his cheek. “I love you,” she said. She wanted to say it every day to him, for the rest of her life.

Alistair hummed, still climbing out of a euphoric haze. Slowly, he lifted his body to pull out of her, and rolled to the side so that he was lying next to Nyx, rather than on top of her. She flipped to lean against him, her head on his chest.

This. This was the perfect moment. She didn’t even feel the need to climax. Not tonight. There would be many other nights and many other chances to orgasm—chances she’d take full advantage of—but for now, just knowing that she was with Alistair was enough. It was a different sort of fulfillment.

“So,” Alistair said after nearly a full minute, “I’m guessing the part of being struck by lightning was just another invention of the Chantry? Or is the Maker just more lenient on those rules during a Blight?”

“If it’s only during a Blight, we’ll need to take full advantage of the time we have,” Nyx said.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I intend to,” Alistair said, kissing the top of her head. “That really was incredible. _You’re_ incredible. Did I mention that I love you? Because I do.”

“You could stand to say it again, every so often. Just to remind me,” Nyx said, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“I love you, Nyx,” Alistair said. Their eyes met, and then their lips did. “You know, they’re going to talk.”

“I think we can handle a little gossip,” Nyx said.

“See, you say that now, but when it actually happens…”

Nyx laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell them about your impressive ‘sword’ and your skill in wielding it,” she teased.

“Oh, you think you’re funny do you?” Alistair said. Nyx nodded, then gave a small scream as he grabbed her and held her against him tight. He let her go just as quickly as he’d hugged her, but not before placing a wet kiss on her forehead.

“Augh! You’re worse than Percy!” Nyx said. She was grateful her mabari had Scooby to play with, otherwise he might have interrupted the two of them. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Not for Nyx, anyway.

Alistair just laughed, full from his belly. Nyx shook her head and snuggled up against him again. He pulled his blanket over them both, and relaxed into the position. He wouldn’t usually sleep on his back like this, but after sex, he found himself tired and content enough that he could probably sleep hanging upside down like a bat.

_Let them talk,_ Alistair decided. Curled up against him, her soft breath tingling his skin, was the most beautiful woman in Ferelden. Probably in all of Thedas. Alistair could stand a little bit of embarrassment if he got to go to bed like this every night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops party poppers* We did it friends, we climbed this whole mountain. We finally earned that little “E” at the top.
> 
> Next chapter is sort of like a filler episode, checking in with people before we get to Haven. We’re also going to run into someone who forces our friends to take a bit of a detour.


	16. A Matter of Perspective

Artemis wasn’t really sure what she was doing here. She wanted to add a _yet_ to that statement, but she also didn’t know that she’d ever figure it out. For now she kept pace with the others as they walked, praying that no one would ask her any more questions. She’d talked so much yesterday, and now she was just looking to enjoy some silence. Well, as close so silence as she could get around this lively bunch.

The relationship dynamics were, for the most part, really easy to pick up on. Zevran, the elf who always smiled like he knew something Artemis didn’t, was very close to Hera, the Dalish elf (that had been a surprise in itself) that was intelligent and intense. Zevran still flirted with the others, but they’d all rejected his advances, so he was tied solely to Hera. Despite his belief in free love, he didn’t seem to have a problem with sticking to the one woman. He had, however, been disappointed when Artemis clarified she was not interested in men. At all.

Morrigan, the scary one Alistair had called a witch, was almost always with Cronus, the very surly mage who Artemis just wanted to avoid. The times they weren’t together were when Cronus was grumpiest, only smiling when he was around Morrigan. Wynne, the eldest of the group, didn’t like Cronus much, but was too polite to say so. They avoided each other when they could, but if the Chantry or the Circle came up, it was bound to become an argument.

Artemis steered clear of them, as well as Shale and Sten. Sten just frightened Artemis. There was no deeper reasoning. He was tall and large and had a deep set frown that made him look ready to kill at any moment. Leliana’s stories about the Qunari picking flowers and petting kittens were not enough to convince Artemis to approach.

Shale was a little different. As a golem, he’d seemed more approachable at first. He wasn’t particularly mean, but he was rough around the edges. When she’d said that to Alistair he’d laughed, and Artemis wasn’t sure why at first. Apparently she was talented at unintentional puns. Still, Shale was difficult to talk to, especially since he seemed to have been offended by Artemis’ line of questioning. Granted, all she could think to ask were questions about golems. She wouldn’t have liked spending a full day answering questions about elves.

Artemis did like the three people she’d met first well enough. Nyx was apparently the leader, and Artemis saw why whenever they ran into trouble along the road. She was quick-thinking and decisive, practically clairvoyant. Yet, Nyx also had this sweetness to her. She was a gentle and forgiving soul, and didn’t seem to enjoy causing pain in her kills. Her gift to those whose deaths were inevitable was ensuring that the death was swift.

Alistair was a lovable goofball, and Artemis was quick to agree with Nyx that he had a lot in common with a puppy. Artemis hadn’t really seen many puppies, save for strays that came round begging for scraps in the Alienage. From what she’d heard of pups, Alistair fit the bill. He had boundless energy and optimism. His sense of humor varied from wonderful to insufferable, and usually it was more in the timing than the joke itself.

The two of them, Nyx and Alistair, fit better than any couple Artemis had ever seen. In all fairness, a lot of the couples she knew were the arranged marriages of the Alienage, who were formed out of necessity to keep bringing elven children into Denerim rather than being formed out of love. The bond between Nyx and Alistair, however, was hard not to notice. They moved in time when they fought, encouraged one another whenever it was needed, and retreated to their tent each night to make love. The last part was apparently a new habit, but they seemed to get on just fine as far as that was concerned.

The one Artemis had a bit of a hard time with was Leliana. She liked talking to her, as she was one of the most well traveled of the group. (Zevran probably took the lead for that, but she didn’t try much to speak with him.) Leliana was an amazing storyteller as well, which made the traveling easier as Artemis listened to some silly story of Orlesian nobles and their ridiculous pageantry. Artemis particularly enjoyed the various descriptions of masks the noblemen wore.

This made it easy to be with Leliana, because Artemis wanted to listen more than she wanted to speak. What made it hard was how closed off the bard was when it came to anything personal. She had only known her a few days, granted, but anything past frivolities was passed over quickly. Artemis started to think she’d offended somehow, but Leliana kept smiling, diverting the subject with a song about a fool who played a prank on the wrong noble and had his head removed.

Artemis was surprised at herself for worrying so much of what a shem thought of her, but knew she shouldn’t be. The only person she could think of whose opinion never mattered was Vaughn, and he was dead and in the ground. _Good riddance,_ Artemis thought, as she did anytime that man crossed her mind. It happened more often than she wanted.

But Artemis was not careful, just shy. Her quietness was not the cleverness of a person who knew when to hold their tongue. When she was comfortable enough to speak, she could be shockingly brash. At least, it was shocking to people who thought her dainty and meek. The physical description was fairly accurate, her thin limbs hard to ignore, but she could speak her mind when she wished. So, eventually, Artemis did say what she wanted to say.

“Why do you always do that?” Artemis asked over the campfire. She sat between Nyx and Leliana, the latter having just diverted a question again.

“What is it I’m doing?” Leliana said.

“Deflecting like that,” Artemis said. “Keeping the subject light. Is that just something Orlesian bards are meant to do?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Leliana said. “It wouldn’t do for a noble to become upset or depressed during a party, so sometimes we must make diversions of ourselves to keep the atmosphere lively. Making them smile makes the real work of a bard easier. Happiness is a distraction so pleasant you don’t mind knowing you’re being distracted.”

“But why do it with yourself?” Artemis asked.

“I like to keep my thoughts light,” Leliana said with a smile. “There are awful things in our lives every day. Our whole reason for traveling together is to face the threat of the darkspawn, but that isn’t what we focus on when we are idle together. We think of nicer places, nicer people, nicer things to do and see. We tell stories that inspire and know to move on.”

“And what of the past?”

“What of it?”

“You seem like you’re running. Is that wrong?”

Leliana stared for a beat. “No,” she admitted. “I am always on the run.”

“What from?” Artemis said.

Leliana laughed, though there was a sad faltering in her voice. “Myself, I suppose. Though you could say the same of a lot of people, I believe.” Though Artemis was still watching Leliana, she sensed Nyx tensing on her other side. She’d been listening, it seemed, and something about that comment struck a nerve.

“You don’t seem bad enough to run from,” Artemis said.

Leliana’s eyes widened, just slightly. She chuckled. “There is a lot about me you don’t know.”

“Then enlighten me.”

That was when Nyx leaned in closer to them. “Maybe that’s enough for tonight. We have a long day of travel ahead and we don’t want to exhaust ourselves. There will be time for more stories in the morning,” Nyx said. She was looking at Leliana, offering an out. Artemis’ brow wrinkled.

“It’s alright,” Leliana said. “Perhaps it is time I told you the truth. I lied when I told you how I joined the Chantry. I didn’t really wish to talk about this then, but it may affect us. I’m not really sure.” Leliana rocked backwards, then rolled onto the balls of her feet and stood. She stared into the fire, then turned to face the other two women.

“I’ve told you both about life as a bard. What I didn’t tell you was why I left Orlais. I was framed for high treason, betrayed by a person I knew and thought I could trust. Her name is Marjolaine. She was my mentor and...a friend.” Leliana lowered her gaze at this, looking back towards the crackling flames. One of the logs was starting to give out and crumble into the center of the firepit. “It was she that taught me the bardic arts, how to enchant with words and song, to carry myself as a high-born lady or to blend in as a servant. I would learn whatever I needed, trying to impress her because I loved her. And also, I enjoyed what I did.

“She was a remarkable woman. I cannot fully express the admiration I had for her, nor the depth of my affection. I thought I knew her. My devotion blinded me to her...less than noble attributes. All bards are players in the Game, but they do have choice in their role. I was sent to kill a man, take whatever papers he had on him, and bring Marjolaine whatever he carried. I had just a description, that was all I needed to hunt him. The documents on his body were sealed.”

“So they were important, I take it?” Artemis said. Both she and Nyx were enraptured in the tale.

“Did you open them?” Nyx asked.

“I did. My curiosity got the better of me. Something told me I had to know what was in those letters. And you are right, Artemis. They were _very_ important. Marjolaine had been selling information of Orlais to other countries. Nevarra. Antiva. Among others. It was treason,” Leliana said. She was looking at the other women again, an intensity in normally gentle blue eyes. “My life as a bard taught me loyalties should be kept fluid. My concern was not for Orlais, but for Marjolaine and the safety of her life. I did not wish to see her die from becoming involved in something so dangerous.

“Orlais was used to war, having been a part of many with many other countries. As such, they took matters like these quite seriously, as I would soon learn. I should have left well enough alone, but I had to tell Marjolaine I feared for her life. She admitted her guilt, but brushed aside all my concerns. She claimed it was in the past, and meant only to see these documents destroyed. I believed her.

“It wasn’t until I was shown the documents again, altered by _her_ hand to make _me_ look the traitor. The Orlesian guards took me, did terrible things to me so I would confess and reveal any conspirators. As soon as they were done with me, all that awaited was eternity in an unmarked grave.”

Artemis was wide eyed in horror. But looking to Nyx, she saw the other woman had an almost unnatural calm. Her face showed pity and sadness, but no surprise. Nyx was not so easily shaken, Artemis thought. Artemis herself, however, was reacting quite differently.

“How did you get out?” she asked.

Leliana smiled then, the expression soft and a little sad, but there was hope in her eyes. Artemis supposed she would call the look nostalgic. Leliana continued, “The skills Marjolaine had taught me were good for something, and I had considerable talent after all my time with her. When I had the opportunity, I broke free of my bonds and ran. I did not bother to seek Marjolaine out. If she wanted anything from me, she would have sent someone to pursue me. Don’t think that revenge didn’t cross my mind. I was furious, betrayed, but what could I do against her?

“Instead, I fled to Ferelden. My mother’s homeland and somewhere far and safe from Orlais. Then I fled further, into the Chantry in Lothering where you found me,” Leliana said, looking to Nyx and nodding. “Ferelden protected my person. The Maker, he saved my soul. And so I am here, because I believe the Maker wished it for me.”

“We are glad to have you along, Leliana. You are a good friend,” Nyx said.

Artemis pulled her lips into a thin line, glancing from Leliana to Nyx and back again. “Thank you for telling us this. For trusting us. Trusting _me,_ ” she said. “You could have chosen to speak privately, but you shared this with someone who is very nearly a stranger.”

Leliana laughed a little. “Yes, I did. Perhaps I am still too trusting in the goodness of others,” she said. “Or perhaps I felt I owed you a truth after what you told us of your own past. In that case, it would make us even.”

“There is always more to share. More stories to tell,” Artemis said. Her eyes were still wide, but not from any surprise or horror. There was something she was seeing in Leliana, something she couldn’t place, but she wanted to reach out and grab a hold of it. Artemis was fond of a human, of all things. Had she not yet learned her lesson about who was to be trusted?

Hard to say. In this camp, she was heavily outnumbered by shems, but so many of them had shown her kindnesses. Nyx had defended her in the marketplace in Denerim, and fed her. Alistair had made her laugh and showed genuine pity for her story. Leliana had been the one to invite her along. An invitation that still made Artemis wonder why she’d accepted it in the first place.

♢♢♢♢♢

If Cronus had anything to be grateful for, it was for the fact that the Maker had put a woman like Morrigan in his world and allowed the two of them to meet. Not that he believed in the Maker, and not that he believed in fate, but if he did, he’d be on bended knee every night in thanks. Instead, he spent every night covered in the sweat and stench of sex.

It had started as a base need, Cronus thought, for Morrigan. He had begun a quiet worship of her from just days of knowing her. He’d hated that Flemeth suggested he was a puppet of hers, putty in Morrigan’s hands, but Cronus knew it was only so upsetting to him because it was also true. He fought a High Dragon for her. He’d fight more if he needed to.

Morrigan rode him, taking all that she wanted from Cronus. She had her moments of playful cruelty, leaving him unfinished because she grew bored or tired. He never missed the momentary glance back at him when she did this. Morrigan was testing to see if he’d leave, give up on her and chase one of the other women that travelled with them. Cronus would never dare.

That night, she brought him to orgasm, and Cronus groaned as he came. Morrigan watched him with a smile, lifting herself gingerly from him only to sit with her legs spread wide in an invitation. Cronus barely paused to catch his breath before he brought his face between her thighs and sighed against her sex. There was nothing quite like the taste of her.

By this time, Cronus was an expert at bringing Morrigan to climax, but he also loved to tease her. He considered it fair payback for the nights he had to spend with a fist clenched around his cock, seeking the final release he’d been denied. Morrigan was begging him to let her come when he finally decided to give in, swirling his tongue around her clit before placing his lips over it and sucking hard. Her whole body clenched, then fell into little fits of trembling, until she finally relaxed.

Morrigan was dragging her fingers against his shoulders, pulling Cronus back up towards her. She took his lips with hers and moaned at the taste. Cronus couldn’t help himself from pulling a smug grin.

“See how delicious you are?” he said.

“What I _see_ is a ridiculous man who takes too much pride in making me wait,” Morrigan said, but she was smirking so he knew she was playing coy.

“My apologies,” Cronus said, kissing her again, and making sure it was filthy. He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth when they parted. His face was surely covered in purple smudges from her lipstick, possibly other parts of him as well. Cronus never cared. He wore any mark she left with pride. Any scratch or bruise from when Morrigan got rough was just a reminder that he’d been with her the other night.

“Is there something more you wish from me? Or is there another cause for your staring?” Morrigan said.

“I wonder...what am I to you?” Cronus asked.

Morrigan sat up, pushing him away, though not with force. She just meant to be in a better position for a conversation such as… _this._ “Is there an answer that would properly satisfy you? Perhaps compliments of how you are so virile and manly?”

“Only if you meant it,” Cronus said, “though I never get the feeling that you do.”

“Have I injured your delicate masculine pride? I could offer to kiss it and make it better,” Morrigan said, leaning forward to press her body against his.

Cronus felt his cock respond to this, but willed what blood he could to stay in his head. While he had no problems with Morrigan climbing atop him again, it was meant to divert his attention. He would maintain focus. “You are wicked,” he whispered.

“Indeed,” Morrigan said, chuckling, “you know me well, my mage.”

“I _am_ yours,” Cronus said. “But I want to know what that means to you.”

“Do you want to know what future we might have? Have you fancied us married someday, with children filling a house in the countryside? You paint the shed while I bake the bread?” Morrigan said. It was maddening when she formed every comment as a question.

“I’m asking you, Morrigan, what you wish of me,” Cronus said. Perhaps opening himself up like this was foolish, but it tormented him to think himself devoted to her like she was his goddess while she thought him nothing but a dalliance. Her tests said otherwise, a strange show that she cared that Cronus did not leave as soon as he didn’t get his way.

Yet, Morrigan’s controlled expressions failed her. Genuine astonishment colored her features, those incredible bright yellow eyes of hers going wide. Even in the dim light, he could see her pupils dilate.

“What I want?” Morrigan breathed. “I...you continue to prove yourself a frustration for me, but also a curiosity. Do you not already have all you wish? What more could you want from me?” She pulled herself from his grasp. If her emotions were to be bared so openly, she needn’t also be literally naked. She found her discarded shirt.

“Only what you are willing to give,” Cronus said. “Morrigan, I want to be honest with you. I believe I might be in—”

“No,” Morrigan snapped. It was not loud, but it was said with an icy chill. She may as well have used her magic for how cold Cronus grew. “You will speak no more of this. I am tired of this topic, and wish to sleep. Return to your tent, or find someone else to entertain your thoughts. We shall speak another time, but tonight I am finished.”

Cronus felt his heart sink into his gut. He’d taken a gamble, and it appeared that he had lost. He dressed quickly, not daring to face a Fereldan night with his manhood exposed, especially amongst the company he kept these days.

And why even stay?

It had become clear that Nyx and Alistair had no way to turn him into a true Warden as things were. Instead Cronus was just along for the ride, like all the rest, with the glorified title of Grey Warden recruit the only thing keeping him from the not-so-glorious title of apostate. He wouldn’t mind being an apostate, defying the Chantry and its demands made out of fear. Fear of _him_ , him and his magic. The Wardens could use that kind of power.

The question that remained was, could he use the Wardens? What would their Joining offer him other than an early death and a life fighting darkspawn? Cronus had barely been with the group and he already tired of darkspawn and honor. He stayed for Morrigan, mostly, and if she didn’t want him…then what?

He could stay and become a Warden, sacrifice freedoms for the greater good, but gain freedoms mages of the Circle wouldn’t have. Not being watched constantly by templars was a big plus. Though, there was the other option.

Cronus stared across the expanse. How far could he get before someone noticed he was gone? Would the templars start to look for him as soon as someone mentioned he’d deserted the Wardens he never truly joined? Cronus cursed his timing. Had Jowan only planned his daring escape a bit sooner, he would know he was safe, with no phylactery left to doom him. Though, so long as the Wardens and their companions kept quiet about him abandoning them and their cause, Cronus could be safe. He didn’t trust them to do him such a kindness.

Besides, there was a lot more to leave behind than the Blight and the Grey Wardens that couldn’t stop making disgusting goo-goo eyes at one another. Or maybe there wasn’t a lot more, but there was at least one thing that amounted to it. Leaving Morrigan was a thought that nearly tore Cronus in two. On the one hand he could be free of whatever spell she had to have cast over him, no longer bewitched into fooling himself with notions of love. On the other he wouldn’t be by the woman to whom he’d swear his service, his heart, his life. Even if it was a spell, Cronus didn’t believe it was one worth breaking.

Morrigan’s vexing ways had brought him full circle into frustrated arousal. In the quiet privacy of his tent, Cronus worked himself again, tugging hard at his cock with images of her in his mind. He’d never fooled himself into thinking sex equated to love when he had his little affairs in the Circle. The women he met with in secret there sought the same thing he did: release.

Out here, Cronus was meant to be more free than them, but he found himself in another cage. And this one, he’d chosen willingly. With each night Cronus refused to flee, he was shutting the lock again and again. He would rather stay at Morrigan’s side, worshipping and adoring her, than find the freedom he once fancied having. It was a sickness, and even Cronus wasn’t talented enough a healer to provide a cure.

♢♢♢♢♢

Although Hera had insisted she had enough left in her to go again, she was at her limit, and Zevran knew it. So instead he kissed her and insisted that, sometimes, pillow talk could provide enough satisfaction to complete an evening. Hera damned her weary eyes for wanting to close when she had the handsomest elf in Thedas beside her. Scratch that, when she had the handsomest man _period._

“Alright, we clearly don’t spend nearly enough time talking,” Hera said, hints of humor in her voice. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Well, you know about my undying love of Antivan leather. I’ve told you of my Dalish mother and my life among the Crows. I’m not certain there’s much more to tell you, my dear,” Zevran said. He had rolled onto his side, propped up on one elbow. His eyes still traced over her form hungrily, like a starving man who could never have his fill.

“Oh, bull,” Hera said with a laugh. “A man like you has hundreds of stories. I just need to find which ones you’re willing to share.”

“Ah, yes, but there are only so many stories of mayhem and murder one can tell before it spoils the mood,” Zevran countered. “Meanwhile, in all the time we have spent together, I don’t believe I have learned much about you. It is hardly fair for me to take up all this time talking and not get to hear the loveliness that is your voice.”

“And if I said I’d much rather hear you speak?” Hera said.

“Haha, then I would not blame you!” Zevran said. “My voice is rather velvety and lush, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think I would have minded hearing the Chant of Light every day if it was coming from you,” Hera said.

Zevran blinked. “Hardly a problem for a Dalish woman to face, is it not?”

Hera cursed her damn mouth. She had done so well when she was among the Dalish. Nyx’s pointers and reminders had been ever present in the front of her mind, but since then she’d relaxed again. She didn’t remember she was an elf until she touched or ears or saw the bold _vallaslin_ on her face. Andruil’s design. For all that Hera could look the part, she hadn’t felt it since facing the abomination in the ruins where Tamlen disappeared. In her heart, she was still a Cousland, noble, proud, and _human._

“No, but I heard enough of it passing that Chantry in Denerim,” Hera said, trying to cover her mistake. She knew Wynne had noticed odd mannerisms, but the older woman never bothered to bring it up with her. Zevran was too clever to reveal his hand. If he had realized something was off beyond just a few clumsily spoken words, he’d kept it to himself so far.

But not for much longer. “You do say some odd things, darling,” Zevran said. “Were you once a city elf that ran to the Dalish? I have heard of some cases where this was allowed.”

“No I...grew up with my clan. I’ve been with them as long as I can remember,” Hera said.

Zevran was unconvinced, but confused by the lie and whatever history it covered. She knew enough of the Dalish and bore their markings on her face, so surely she had to be one of them. Yet, she spoke and sounded, dare he think it, like a human.

He’d known many elves: some Crows like him, some whores, some Dalish, and some poor servants who quietly pointed him in the direction of his mark for they bore no love for their masters. Hera wasn’t like any of them. Granted, this was part of what Zevran liked about her, but it was a curiosity if he’d ever known one.

“I’ll make you a deal then,” Zevran said, refusing to let this go. “Consider it a trade, but of secrets. I will do as you asked and share something I have never told someone before. Then, in return, you entrust me with whatever it is you seem so nervous to share.”

“So...we prove that we trust one another?” Hera said, one brow quirked above the other.

“Exactly so,” Zevran said.

Hera pursed her lips, pulling them to one side of her mouth in contemplation. Hearing a secret from Zevran was tempting, but could he really be trusted with what she had to share? It wasn’t her secret alone, after all. It was one she shared with Nyx. She didn’t owe the other woman anything, and didn’t pretend for a moment that she did, but if he reacted negatively, told Alistair or anyone else… What reason would he have to do that?

“And we won’t breathe a word of these secrets outside of this tent?” Hera said.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Zevran said. He traced his index finger in an “x” over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Would you mind going first?” Hera said sheepishly.

That she was acting so skittish felt like an open sore she exposed to the elements. But Zevran was agreeable, as he tended to be. He sat up, still shameless and nude, and told Hera his secret.

Zevran would not go into the full details, not tonight, but to serve his purpose, he told the core truth of his secret. Despite all the lip service he paid to a life without attachments, Zevran had been—at least once in his life—in love. He was very vague, the subject clearly a sore spot, but he mentioned that it ended in tragedy. The woman had died. He would not say how, or why, just that she did.

Hera’s heart broke for Zevran. Strange, because she thought she believed in what he preached like it was his gospel. Love was unnecessary attachment, a fleeting sentiment that only ever ended badly. To hear that he had not only loved, but also lost, tore her up inside in a way she didn’t think it should. Hera realized then that she now had two great secrets. She wouldn’t dare share the newest one.

“If you could go back,” Hera said, “save her life and keep her, no matter the cost, would you do it?”

“That is...difficult. I am a different man than I was when I knew her. There was a time I knew the answer to that but now I am unsure,” Zevran said.

“Then, if you were the man you once were, when you knew the answer...what was it?”

“I would have gone back.”

Hera felt a knot in her stomach. It was strange enough that she felt jealous, but jealous of a dead woman? No, she had a point in asking this, and she had to make it. Hera had to tell him who she really was. Especially if it was as she feared.

“Nyx made that decision once, too,” Hera said. “And nearly killed me to do it.”

Now she _really_ had his attention. She started from her previous life, as a human noble. Zevran said nothing, never once interrupting. Hera explained how Duncan recruited her as a Warden, but she ran, deserting to find her brother Fergus. Fergus, who was probably still alive somewhere now as well, Maker willing. Hera told Zevran how she hid out the Blight, then reclaimed Highever when it was over.

Then, she’d met Nyx. This was where Zevran’s features really shifted from shock to pure horror. With all that she explained, overtime his eyes grew wider, his mouth falling open just so, his brows raised high on his forehead. Hera mentioned the Changeling, said that he was the abomination they met in the ruins, that he was after Nyx for some kind of revenge. What he wanted, exactly, she still didn’t know, but it could be nothing good. And he would still be after them.

Hera told Zevran how she’d woken up Dalish, run after her memories returned, found Nyx with the intent of killing her. She recounted how she’d wound up joining the Grey Wardens and their companions to aid in defeating the Blight. Hera had nearly forgotten the promise Nyx once made. If at the end of everything, when the Archdemon laid dead, Hera still wanted to kill Nyx, she was free to do so. Hera had a hard time deciding what it was exactly that she wanted, but she knew that was no longer it. That alone was a strange thought to swallow.

As for Nyx’s side of the matter, Hera told what she could. Nyx had done it for Alistair, for love, but had taken Hera specifically to become a noble and marry the king. It didn’t seem she wanted the power of the queen, simply the ability to stay at Alistair’s side. After all, Nyx had plenty of power and status as the Hero of Ferelden, even as a Dalish elf. It would be a lie to say that the queen would not possess more power, but it didn’t seem enough of an elevation of status to Hera for that to be the motivation. Plus, what she now knew of Nyx didn’t match the image of a power-hungry woman. Another thought that shook her expectations.

When Hera was done, Zevran was silent. It was a lot to parse,so of course she understood the need to pause. Knowing that didn’t help to break the eerie quiet that settled around her. When he did speak, Hera perked up again.

“I will...keep this to myself, as promised,” Zevran said. “I must admit, none of that was what I was expecting. That was nothing like what I might have thought to expect. Though, it does explain quite a bit about you.” He looked at the tent flaps, laced closed for more guaranteed privacy. Zevran was staring in the general direction of the tent that Nyx now shared with Alistair. “Though it makes our dear Warden a great deal more confusing.”

“I’ve been struggling with that, myself,” Hera admitted. “Before all I knew of her was the title; _Hero of Ferelden._ I idealized her and would have trusted her with anything. I _did_ trust her with something. My life. And she would have thrown that away. But then, she wasn’t the great evil I constructed in my head when I awoke, either. She saved lives as often as she was able, helped the less fortunate, did all the things the Chantry said the Maker smiled upon without hesitation. I still don’t understand how those two women are the same.”

“Love makes fools of brilliant people,” Zevran mused. He leaned back again. “What of Alistair?”

“Alistair?”

“Does he know her secret?”

“No,” Hera said. “One of the first things I had to promise was that I wouldn’t tell anyone. Technically, I’ve broken that promise with you, but I thought you would be more worthy of keeping this secret than anyone else.”

Zevran hummed, obviously pleased. “It is wise to keep it from Alistair. I doubt he would be so...understanding.”

“She needs to tell him eventually,” Hera said.

“Does she?” Zevran challenged. Hera opened her mouth to speak, but balked. “If she keeps her secret, he gets to stay happy, no? Ignorance is bliss, or so they say, though the ignorant would never really know how lucky they were to be so. But were she to tell him, his templar instinct could reject her, break her heart, and what risks she took to get here would be for nothing. What pains she caused would be without reason. What purpose is there in telling him?”

Hera wanted to disagree, insist that the truth was more important, but she couldn’t find the reasons she thought she knew so well before. Zevran had a point. More than that, she agreed with him on it. Alistair was not the sort to forgive this thing, that much Hera had gathered. To tell him just to lose him and all reason for Hera’s suffering was foolish. Better Nyx stay selfish. Better Nyx keep him. Hera knew, in that position, it would be what she would choose to do.

♢♢♢♢♢

“It’s morning,” Nyx said, voice flat. She was frowning, her mabari curled up on one side, and her lover on the other. With the three of them, it made for a tight space within the tent, but Alistair had relented once Wynne forced Perseus to suffer the dreaded bath time. He smelled marginally better than usual, though he seemed determined to regain his stench.

“You are so observant,” Alistair teased.

“I mean,” Nyx said, glaring at him, “it’s morning, which means we need to get up.”

“Is that what it means?” Alistair said with a grin. “Because I’d much rather stay here for another hour.”

“Haven is still a ways off. All the way in the Frostback Mountains. If we don’t keep our pace it could well be a month before we get there,” Nyx said, dragging her hands down her face. A month was an exaggeration, but not by much. She wanted to see Eamon cured. Alistair would be able to rest easier once the Arl was well again.

“Have I mentioned how lovely you look?” Alistair said.

Nyx wouldn’t let him distract her. He could not win this battle. She rolled onto her side and grabbed him, kissing him fiercely. When she broke apart Alistair felt dizzy. Nyx grinned.

“You have,” Nyx said. “Now come on. We’re Grey Wardens. No sleeping on the job.”

“It was so much easier to get up when I had to look forward to leaving my tent to see you,” Alistair said. “Now that I wake up next to you it’s so tempting to stay.”

“I agree,” Nyx said, but she was already pulling on her smalls and dragging out her clothes.

They were still among the first awake, even in their reluctance to leave the tent. Wynne and Leliana sat up, talking over their breakfast. Alistair was pleased to see they had out some of the cheese they’d bought in Denerim. Nyx just went for an apple, wandering the perimeter of the camp while the others started to wake. Sten had apparently been up as well, nodding respectfully at Nyx as he walked back towards them. She sometimes heard him practicing sword drills away from their tents.

Shale had, of course, remained awake through the night. He had taken well to the idea of playing night watchman, in the end. Especially because he got to scare off or crush any birds that came near. Nyx still didn’t completely understand Shale’s ire, but she had no reason to argue.

The others came awake in time, though Hera was forced awake earlier than usual by Scooby and Perseus barking and playing, looking to get Nyx and Hera in on the fun. Nyx smiled politely at Hera when she woke up, but Hera was avoiding Nyx’s gaze. It wasn’t too unusual. Sometimes there were days when the old hatred came back in full. They were always civil, but if Hera needed her space, Nyx would give it.

The strange thing was that Hera didn’t look angry. She looked guilty. When she circled back towards Nyx later that morning, Nyx knew she hadn’t imagined the change in expression. _That_ made this unusual.

“Can we talk? In private?” Hera said, glancing around.

“Of course,” Nyx said. She gestured for Hera to start walking, going just a little ways outside of their encampment. “What’s on your mind? You look concerned.”

“I was talking to Zevran last night, and he noticed… I wasn’t acting _Dalish_ enough. So he asked me about it and in the end,” Hera said, pausing for a deep breath, “I told him.”

Nyx froze. “You...told him?”

“About us. About _you_ ,” Hera said.

Nyx was shaking. “But you… You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone!” Breathing was becoming hard again. She thought she was done with this falling apart, but every time it came back, it overpowered her every sense. Her every thought was an attack, on no one but herself. “You said that...we agreed…!”

“That you should be the one to tell them, I know,” Hera said. “That’s kind of what I want to talk to you about. But, about Zevran, I wanted him to know about me. This?” She paused, gesturing to her body. “This isn’t me. I’m a Cousland. My family is respected. Our name has a history and a crest to go with it. I say my name and people _respond_. You took that from me.”

Nyx didn’t speak. Hera looked like she was waiting on a reaction, but sighed. Of course Nyx couldn’t say anything now. Panic sealed her shut like a coffin.

“I wanted him to know that. I will always miss who I was, but there’s something else I was given in exchange. The clan. Even if they’ve left Ferelden now, they were...they _are_ my family. You understand that, don’t you?” Hera said. “Nyx, please talk to me.”

Nyx shook her head. “I don’t understand...I don’t…” she mumbled. She rubbed her eyes hard, pulling the skin of her face until it was red. Hera reached out and grabbed Nyx’s hands.

“Stop that,” Hera said. “You have to listen to me.”

Nyx’s terrified face registered with Hera, who took a deep breath. Nyx didn’t need to be berated, she was already panicked enough. Hera softened her tone, trying hard as she could to relax her body and face into something soothing.

“I’m trying to tell you...I forgive you. It doesn’t make any sense, I know. But you’re the only one who knows exactly what I’m going through. Maybe this is ridiculous, but I was thinking that our shared histories...make us family.”

Hera’s conversation with Zevran last night had been with both of them completely naked, and yet she felt more exposed now than she had then. Nyx wasn’t helping by staring with those huge honey eyes of hers, the whites rimmed with lines of red. Tears kept springing up and falling down her cheeks. Hera had to turn away, releasing her grasp on Nyx’s hands.

“It’s a stupid thought, I know. But family doesn’t have to be someone you love. Voids, it doesn’t even have to be someone you _like._ But two people who share as much as we do, we’re not just strangers, and I’d rather not be enemies. Maybe someday we could…”

Hera stopped herself from finishing that thought. _Maybe we could be friends,_ sounded infinitely more desperate and idiotic than saying she felt like family. At least one phrase she could apply logic to. The other was pure feeling, a thing that was betraying Hera in a lot of ways lately. She refused to return to her thoughts of Zevran.

“I...see your point,” Nyx said. “That is a word for it, I suppose. Family.” She was still crying, though the upset was settling. Her mind was still in shock, processing all that Hera was telling her. “Will Zev tell anyone?”

“No,” Hera said. “I made him swear to secrecy. I trust him.”

Nyx nodded, eyes trailing to the side. “Thank you.”

“I should actually tell you about what he said. We talked about it, about why they shouldn’t know. Why Alistair can’t know what you’ve done. I know we agreed that you should tell them, when we met again and I agreed to travel with you, but I’ve changed my mind,” Hera said. Nyx was dumbstruck. Hera continued, “Do you really think Alistair could forgive you? I don’t mean to make you more guilty. I’ve noticed you beat yourself up enough that it’s not necessary, but think about it.

“He was trained as a templar and he hates Morrigan. I don’t know that he hates all mages, but I doubt he’d like that you trusted a blood mage. He also doesn’t seem like he’s very good at moving on. You know him better than I do, I realize that, but from what I know of him… You shouldn’t tell him.” Hera hugged her arms close to her chest. “You did all of this for him. Why waste that just because the ‘honorable’ thing is telling the truth? Taking my life was meant to give you a chance to stay with him. So take that chance. Don’t tell him about what you did. Zevran agrees with me on this.”

Nyx swallowed, her eyes still wide and focused down at the ground. If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have given this thought the time of day. She felt bound, believed the right thing was to be honest. It was such a huge piece of who she’d become, and Nyx wanted Alistair to understand who she really was. Nyx had held it off because she knew it would reveal what she was like at her worst, the darkest things she had been willing to do. _Had been._

It was that past tense, Nyx’s decision to never stoop to such lows ever again, that made her believe there was a chance for him to understand. He’d have to see that she’d saved his life. That she did it for desperation and love. Why did that make it sound worse?

Now here was Hera, the woman who had every right to despise Nyx forever, and she was advising her against telling him. She said she’d _forgiven_ Nyx. That they were like family, in a way. Whatever that all meant to Hera, what it meant to Nyx was that Hera cared. Which would have to mean this advice wasn’t given with a desire to trick Nyx, making it look like she’d intended to hide the secret forever. It was genuine concern Nyx had seen on Hera’s face that morning.

And Hera had been right about at least one thing. Nyx knew Alistair. Perhaps better than anyone else ever had. She still thought of the one day she had come close to hating him. After all Nyx had done, Alistair must have known how important the lives of others were to her. Her youth had been defined by a loss she never got to experience or understand. She’d never had parents, just the clan.

Then, she’d lost Tamlen. Then Duncan. Neither she’d had the power to stop. She was forced to kill people she hadn’t wanted to because she was forced. Nameless villagers who were just desperate for a chance to live. Danyla. Bhelen. Ser Cauthrien. It didn’t matter if they were friends of hers or enemies, every kill had broken her inside. Nyx wanted nothing more than to stop all unnecessary loss of life.

Riordan had offered an out. He’d given her a chance to spare a life. Whether that life deserved the chance or not, it shouldn’t have been up to her. It shouldn’t…

Alistair threatened to leave. When stood between her morals and her love, she’d chosen love. It had made it that much easier to do it a second time.

Hera didn’t know this, but watching Nyx start to stand more solidly on the ground was frightening. She’d seen many faces Nyx wore, but never one so cold. This was the face the demon had worn in the Fade. The one Hera thought was pure fiction, a version of Nyx created in her mind out of hate. To see it realized on the true Nyx was disquieting.

“If you think it’s best, I won’t tell him. Or anyone,” Nyx said, finally breaking the silence. “Now that that’s decided, we should get going. We’ve got to break down camp before we can go, and the road ahead is long.”

Hera didn’t argue. In fact, she didn’t say anything after that. She hadn’t changed her opinion on the matter, still thinking that the secret was best kept as such, but now she wondered what convinced Nyx in the end. Hera knew in her heart it wasn’t something she had said. There was still so much Nyx hadn’t shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the last part of this chapter made me cry.
> 
> Cronus and Morrigan’s song would be “Take Me to Church” by Hozier. I heard it in my head the whole time I wrote his bit. I actually have playlists for this story on youtube. I can share them if requested, but they’re unlisted for now.
> 
> Soldier’s Peak up next! If you remember the focus of the DLC, you probably can guess the relevance.


	17. Justification

Levi Dryden’s story was not what convinced Nyx to seek Soldier’s Peak. The first time, her heart felt for the man who just wanted to know his family. Now, she just remembered the dangers that waited there, and didn’t want to risk the chance that Levi might try to get there on his own. Nyx took only a small group through the hidden route in the caves. It didn’t seem necessary to have everyone along for this diversion.

The place was daunting. Having Alistair and Perseus beside her eased Nyx’s nerves a bit, but it was hard to smell the heavy stench of death and not react. Facing the undead again chilled her to the bone. She suspected the feeling was worsened by the tears in the Veil. Morrigan pointed them out once the fight had ended and Levi was safe again.

“The Circle Tower was like this, too,” Hera noted. Scooby whined.

Zevran and Artemis, who had also come along, had not been present during that adventure. Artemis had a harder time than anyone, being the only one who’d not yet faced undead. She kept far from battles with her bow, which made the fear easier to swallow.

“We were able to fix matters there,” Nyx said. “And we will find out what’s wrong here, as well.”

“At the Tower we knew what was wrong,” Hera said, “but here…?” The question was a nice charade. Determined to keep the secret, Hera was starting to pretend like she didn’t understand Nyx’s confidence in certain matters.

“Let us hope that it is not too similar,” Morrigan said. “Given what Cronus told me of your adventures in the Tower, I’d hate to face that large a number of demons all in one day.”

“D-demons?” Levi sputtered. “Thank Andraste you came with me, Wardens. I knew it would have been a fool’s errand to go alone.”

Nyx lead the way further in, stopping as specters started to appear. Though they were not ghosts of people. Rather, they were the ghosts of memories. Levi watched in wonder as Sophia Dryden, his ancestor, gave orders to the other Wardens. The battle was starting to look bleak, but still they fought.

“So brave, even when starving, and my great-great-grandmother stood with them,” Levi said.

“I still don’t understand what went on here,” Artemis said. It was the first time she’d managed to speak since leaving camp, but the place frustrated her. “Weren’t Grey Wardens always respected and honored for their duty?”

“They were, up until a point. I thought they’d just been banished, but to murder them like this…” Levi said, staring around the room where the specters had once stood. “King Arland must have been a monster.”

“There must be more to the story that we’re missing,” Hera said. “Let’s keep going.”

Just ahead there were demons, as they had suspected. Nyx cursed the blood mage she knew had caused all this, but wondered what she would choose this time. She had, as usual, given him the chance to live, but only under the promise that his research was ethically done. Nyx had never seen the fruits of that labor. She couldn’t know for sure if he’d kept his promise. Could she kill a man just for the chance that he had broken it?

As they continued through the fortress, they found the story left by the Archivist, and another vision appeared before them. They spoke of a rebellion involving the Wardens. Something the order was not meant to do. Even Levi was confused. He insisted that the Wardens were heroes, as Artemis had said before, and must have had their reasons.

“Some injustices can’t be ignored,” Levi said.

“True,” Nyx said. “Though the Grey Wardens are meant to remain a neutral party, we are after Teryn Loghain. I’m certain Sophia had good reason for what she did.”

In all honesty, Nyx didn’t remember the story of the attack, beyond the fact that King Arland was corrupt and the Wardens fought against him. She’d been a little distracted by the presence of a blood mage and the possessed corpse of Levi’s ancestor. With the tear in the Veil to worry about, the history lesson seemed small in comparison.

With the next group of specters, a silence fell over the group.

“Make them pay for every inch, men!” Sophia commanded. She fought bravely, but they were clearly outnumbered. The ghostly blue-ish visions of soldiers surrounded them. When they passed through Nyx and her companions, it felt like a gentle wind with a cool chill. Sophia faced one of the soldiers, slitting his throat. “Avernus, we need you!”

Avernus, the mage that Nyx knew still lived, chanted something ominous. Nyx looked to Alistair and the others for their reaction to what happened next. A demon had been summoned with the intention of using its power to protect the Keep. The color drained from Alistair’s face. That was enough of an answer for what questions swam in Nyx’s mind.

“More Avernus! Whatever it takes!” Sophia cried.

More proved to be too much for the mage. Avernus lost control of the demons he’d summoned, who attacked everyone within reach, no longer discriminating between the king’s soldiers and the Grey Wardens. The scene quickly deteriorated into a bloodbath, while the demon that appeared to lead the others reached for Avernus. He wanted to take his soul, possess his body, but the mage was quick on his feet. He turned to the door and ran, ignoring the call of his commander to spare his own skin. The specters disappeared again, and everyone felt a little woozy.

“The Wardens summoned demons?” Levi said. “I can’t believe it. And my grandmother...she knew.”

“She was fighting for her life,” Nyx reasoned.

“I believed that my family was better than that,” Levi said, lowering his head. “Perhaps...an answer still lies up ahead.”

“I can’t believe the Wardens would use blood magic,” Alistair said under his breath. Nyx was close enough to hear. The irony was not lost on her.

Levi soon found the answers he sought, and the person who offered them made his gut sink. Sophia Dryden stood, showing some signs of decay, though not as much as she should have given the years since her death. It was the demon within her that kept her body functioning, just well enough to puppet it around. Had Avernus not trapped her here, the demon within would have been free.

“Stop there Warden. This one would speak with you,” the demon spoke. It even took Sophia’s voice as it kept her body. “I’d like to propose a deal.”

“You dishonor the memory of the one whose body you inhabit, demon,” Nyx said, teeth clenched.

“This one has tasted her memories, seen her thoughts and hidden places. But she is but food for this one, no more, no less,” the demon said.

“I believe we’ve heard enough from you,” Hera said. “Nyx?”

Nyx nodded, and they began their attack. The thing possessing Sophia brought more demons to it’s side, making the fight a little more challenging. Levi ran from the room to avoid getting hurt. They made short work of the demons. When at last Sophia’s body fell, Nyx put her sword back in its sheath. She leaned down, pulling down the lids of Sophia’s eyes. When they finished with the Veil, they’d give her a proper burial, so she might rest easier beneath the ground.

“Levi?” Nyx called, exiting the room to find the man they accompanied. “How are you feeling? That can’t have been easy to face.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Levi admitted, “but I know my grandmother died long ago. Whatever that _thing_ was, it wasn’t her. I just...need to keep telling myself that.”

Soon, they encountered more undead and demons, making their way towards the highest tower of the keep. Nyx saw books laid open, notes in every margin and a journal to one side of a long table. It was Avernus’ research. She wasn’t willing to look at it again. It wasn’t that she had read anything particularly grotesque, but it still wasn’t pleasant to read about blood sacrifices in the name of powering magic. Especially now that Nyx could relate. Her stomach churned.

Hera, however, let her curiosity get the better of her for a moment. She backed away within seconds of starting to read. Those dead men could have been her. They almost were.

“How could they do this?” Hera said.

Nyx had no answer. Nothing could make this right, even if it was for a just cause. There were those who would disagree, seeing necessary sacrifices as something that had to happen, but without the results to show it had been worth it there wasn’t much reason to defend it.

She didn’t want to anyway. What was done here and with the Changeling, both were wrong. It was Nyx’s burden to bear.

“It looks like someone was here recently,” Nyx said. “We’re not alone.”

Hera took the hint, and pressed on. Just as Nyx had told them, they had company. Avernus stood, still working, still doing research after all these years.

Hera tensed.

“I hear you,” Avernus said, not bothering to turn and face them. “Don’t disrupt my concentration.” When the group came closer, the old man sighed and went to speak with them. “Even now the demons seek to replenish their numbers. Are you to thank for this welcomed but temporary imbalance?”

“You’re still alive?” Artemis said quietly.

“We’re the ones that have been cleaning up your mess, mage,” Hera said through her teeth.

“I see,” Avernus said, eyeing those that stood in front of him. “Why are you here? What is your intent?”

“Levi Dryden brought us here to learn of his family,” Nyx said.

“Ser mage, my family name has been worth less than dirt for over a century. Do you have any proof that Sophia was a hero?” Levi asked. His voice broke, a show of his lost hope. What he’d seen so far had been disheartening, but still he had to try.

“The boy who braved the mists. I see you heeded my call,” Avernus said. “And you are a Dryden? It seems the cosmos has a sense of humor.”

“Your call? What do you mean by that?” Artemis said.

“He was but a boy when he entered the tunnels below the Peak. His heart pure. His character certain. In dreams I gave him the keys he would need. He would be my deliverance,” Avernus explained. “As for Sophia, she was brave, charismatic, fiery, and utterly devoted to her cause. King Arland was monstrous, turning the nobles on each other and trying to squash Sophia for the claims she once held to the throne. She came to us for aid, among her other allies. Despite her prowess, we still lost.”

“Her prowess and _your_ blood magic,” Hera said. “Which I saw you never quit, even after summoning up the demons that now reign over this place.”

“It was necessary,” Avernus said. “Any tool, any iota of information that could defeat the fell of demons was justified.”

“Necessary?” Alistair said. “Having to relieve yourself after an eight-hour ride is necessary. But there’s no excuse for summoning demons.”

Hera glanced at Nyx, but saw that she had steeled herself. Nyx would not react to this, not now that they’d agreed to keep their pasts secret. Hera wasn’t helping, pressing the issue as she was. She knew this, and knew also that there were other matters at hand.

“Charming,” Avernus commented. “My only regret is that it failed and I never made Arland pay. He killed many whom I once called dear friends. His cruelty should not have gone unpunished.”

“There are still demons about,” Nyx said. “What is to be done about this?”

“I am able to help. Let me undo my greatest mistake. Let me cleanse this place. I understand if you see justice, or perhaps even vengeance in my death, but I ask of you this: stay your hand until the Veil has been mended,” Avernus said.

“Until the demons are dead, then, we are allies,” Nyx agreed.

“Good. Take me to the Great Hall, where this all began. That is where I must work to repair the damage I caused,” Avernus said. There was clear pain in his aged eyes. Whatever ability he had for cruelty, he had first known loss. Nyx did not like the comparisons her mind drew between the mage and herself. She moved with her back to him to escape the thoughts.

The last battle against the demons infesting Soldier’s Peak was long and difficult. By the end, there was not a one of them that wasn’t out of breath and sweating from the effort it took. Still, the Veil was closed, and the once great fortress was safe to inhabit at last. The only thing left was to decide Avernus’ fate.

Nyx had debated the whole time they’d fought over what she would do. Avernus could not continue researching with blood magic. Need or not, she could not see the excuse. To kill him, however, would be a betrayal of all she’d meant to do with this new start. With a second chance at life, should Nyx not give everyone she could the same?

“You will live,” Nyx said, “and help the Wardens with your research. But only if you use ethical methods. The Grey Wardens do not use blood magic. Not anymore.”

Avernus muttered something about this only making his work more difficult, but was thankful enough for his life being spared that he accepted the terms. Levi promised to stay on and keep watch on the old mage, only to report if Avernus broke his promise or had a breakthrough.

“But we’ve still no proof to redeem my family,” Levi said.

“The past might not have what you seek, but the Drydens may yet have a bright future. You’re a good man, Levi. People will have to see that,” Nyx said.

“Thank you, Warden,” Levi said. Her determined speech had actually made Levi flush a bit. “You’ve got a whole fortress now. I suppose I should start plying my trade again. My brothers are craftsmen, themselves. Perhaps we could offer you something in exchange? Mikhael wrote me recently talking about this strange material he found. I could bring him here, have him craft a blade from it.”

“I’m not certain we should stay much longer,” Nyx said.

“I could have him here on the morrow,” Levi said quickly. “I promise, I don’t wish to cause you delay. I’d just like to repay all that you tried to do for me. For the Drydens.”

“I think we could spare a day or two, at least,” Hera said. “We’ve been moving nonstop for days already. With a bit of a break we’ll be moving twice as fast when we leave.”

Nyx was unconvinced until she noted the weary faces surrounding her. They could all do with some rest, and Levi’s trade goods would be useful to resupply. She agreed to stay until Mikhael could craft his blade.

“A demonic invasion thwarted, a Warden base safely rescued… We do good work,” Alistair said, winking at Nyx.

♢♢♢♢♢

Rest wasn’t all they got that night. Nyx and Alistair were still tired from a day’s work, but not too tired for a bit of lazy lovemaking. Nyx hummed contentedly, laying kisses across Alistair’s neck as he finished inside her. Moments later, they shifted positions, making it easier for his fingers to fill her. Alistair had learned a lot in the time they spent together. His enthusiasm to make Nyx feel good could sometimes make her blush. Times like these just made her cry out and squirm until she came, melting under his touch.

“I love you,” Alistair whispered, kissing her neck just below her ear. “You know, I’m really glad you’re you.”

Nyx giggled, body still relaxed in post-orgasmic euphoria. “Whatever does that mean?” she asked.

“Well, I’m just happy that I got you, and not some other Warden,” Alistair said.

Nyx bit her lip. He’d not meant anything by it. “I’m glad you’re you, too,” Nyx said.

She laughed at how ridiculous that sounded coming out of her mouth, and to cover the twinge of hurt in her heart. In a way, she had been another Warden. But he had also been another Alistair. Nyx banished these confusing thoughts from her mind. Spending time on it did her no good.

But she couldn’t help it. “What if I’d been, say, an elf?” Nyx asked.

“An elf?” Alistair said with a slight chuckle. He looked down and caught the very real curiosity on her face, and stopped laughing. “You would still be the same person at heart, right?”

“Of course,” Nyx said. “I’m sorry, that was a silly thing to ask.”

“No! No…” Alistair started, then thought for a moment and said, “Alright, a bit silly, since you’d never be an elf, but it does make you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“Mm hmm,” Nyx hummed, ignoring another twist of pain in her belly.

“Okay, then what would you do if _I_ was an elf?” Alistair said.

“Well, you’d probably hate me at first and call me a shem,” Nyx said.

“Probably true.”

“But I’d still love you,” Nyx said. “No matter who or what you are, I love you.”

“Goodness, that was cheesy,” Alistair said with a wide grin. “Good thing I adore cheese.”

Nyx kissed his lips and giggled. “Enough ridiculousness for one night. Sleep.”

She curled against his chest, warm from the closeness. His arms enveloped her as her eyes shut. Nyx found sleep so much easier when she was next to him. She dreaded the thought of a cold and empty bed.

♢♢♢♢♢

It took until the second day, but Mikhael finished the blade Nyx was promised. It glowed with a strange blue light, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Mikhael explained that it seemed stronger than even silverite. Nyx asked him again where he’d gotten the metal.

“It fell from the sky,” he said. “I know, it sounds bizarre, but a falling star came and crashed by a farm. The farmer sold it to me because he figured only a well trained smith could do something with it.”

“It’s...otherworldly,” Nyx said in awe. She stepped aside and gave it a gentle swing. It was sure to serve her well.

“I was thinking of naming it Starfang, knowing its origin,” Mikhael said. “What do you think?”

“I like it, but,” Nyx said, stopping for a moment to contemplate, “I think I’ll call her Stargazer.”

“Aye, that’s a good name, too,” Mikhael agreed. “If you Wardens need anything else, don’t hesitate to call on us. Levi has some free supplies we’ve gathered, since you mentioned you’re headed all the way towards the Frostbacks.”

“Thank you,” Nyx said. “I will be sure to tell anyone who asks that a Dryden smithed this blade. Anything that will help gain respect for your name again.”

“You have been too kind, Warden,” Mikhael said, bowing his head. “Good luck on your travels.”

They took what they needed of Levi’s supplies, putting the rest on Bodahn’s cart for later. They said goodbye to the Dryden brothers, wishing them luck with Avernus and Soldier’s Keep. Nyx hoped that, within a few years, its walls might see Grey Wardens again, their order restored in Ferelden. They would have Amaranthine again when all this was over, taking it from the traitorous Howe, but there was no harm in having another place to set up base miles away from their arling.

The road felt easier now that they’d taken a full day to regain their strength. Sten had grunted with disapproval at the decision, but she could see even his eyes had been rimmed with dark circles before. Even the toughest warrior could not function without a bit of food and sleep.

In the meantime, everyone had spent time training. Cronus practiced with the sword he’d picked up in Denerim. Despite his pride, he’d asked for pointers from Alistair and Nyx, who were happy to offer them. Even Hera, despite preferring small daggers to longswords, had a few wise words to share with Cronus in regards to fighting styles.

“And if you really intend on fighting with a blade now,” Hera said, “you’re going to want to get yourself some armor. Perhaps fine leathers that aren’t so heavy that they’ll weigh you down. I’m sure Bodahn’s cart has something to offer.”

“I don’t know of any leathers enchanted to help with mana and magical power,” Cronus grunted. Even when he was grateful he was an ass.

“Enchantment!” they heard Sandal cheer, even though he was far behind. He had very good hearing, apparently.

Hera just grinned smugly. “I think we have a solution to _that_ problem, already.”

Cronus remained unimpressed, though he knew she was right. Perhaps a nice set of light armor could even be flattering. At least he’d never get comments on how he wore a “dress” anymore. Like that never got old.

They charged along, reaching Haven much sooner than Nyx would have predicted possible. Crows flew from the place when they approached. Was that an omen for what Nyx already knew about, or something unexpected? Sten questioned why this quest was really important, and Nyx couldn’t help but think it was an odd time to bring it up. Telling him this was a part of taking down Loghain seemed to satisfy him for the moment.

No one liked the quiet of the place, nor the creepy villagers that watched their every move as they inspected the town. Nyx knew where to go, but took the others to the shop first, anyhow. They needed to see with their own eyes what the people of Haven had done to Eamon’s knights. When they did, the villagers turned on the group as Nyx knew they would, and they retaliated in turn. A few crazed cultists were nothing next to a group of warriors and mages.

Nyx went up the hill towards the chapel where Genitivi was. They killed the cultists inside when attacked, and found the secret panel in the wall that hid their prisoner. Brother Genitivi was wounded, but with a little help from Wynne, he seemed in much better shape. Nyx didn’t bother trying to convince him to stay behind, this time. He would be safe so long as he didn’t venture too far into the ruins he lead them to. Besides, they needed him to open that first door with the puzzle key.

Wynne and Leliana were enraptured by the ancient structures of the ruins. Leliana could point out every little thing that was some sign of Andrastian worshipers having built the place, from stone carvings to faded murals. At one point, they supposed it must have been quite beautiful. Now, ice and snow had claimed the stones as their own, and signs of the mad cultists lingered in almost every room they entered.

When Nyx had been Dalish, she hadn’t understood the importance of the place. Walking through rows of aravels, she would have looked for the placement of each symbol of the Creators. The names of those involved in Andraste’s life and history had meant nothing to her. Leliana lovingly explained everything with great patience while Nyx stood confused at why they would construct statues of what mortal men had betrayed the human prophetess.

Now, she understood, and it upset her to know it. Religion had never been a great focus of her life, though she did believe. She spoke the names and knew a few of the more interesting stories, but it had always been Merrill who was more aware. It was her duty as First, after all. Nyx had no duty to know, and thus hadn’t really cared. She had hidden the vallaslin that pointed in an arrow on her forehead with dark black bangs. Nyx had not cared much for the Creators when it was something she was expected to follow.

Now she had no clue what she believed. A human upbringing showed her all she needed to know of the Maker, and she’d dutifully said her prayers and respected the Chantry sister that lived with her in Highever. That didn’t mean her heart was ever in it. Now that Nyx knew that her human life was as good as fiction, she wondered if she could still have any claim to the gods of elvhen. Would Mythal reject an elf that wore the face of a shem?

Nyx found Hera as they stood in that first grand hall, no cultists around for the moment. “Is this as strange for you as it is for me?” Nyx asked.

“I’d have to know how strange you felt first to answer that,” Hera said.

“Very strange,” Nyx said.

“Then, no. When I…” Hera paused and glanced around, making sure the conversation was private. “When I was human, I didn’t believe in the Maker. On days I almost did, I still didn’t believe he could be anything like the Chantry preached. Andraste might have been a powerful figure, perhaps even a brilliant leader, but bride of the Maker? Or the Chant of Light being the thing that would make the Maker notice us again?”

Nyx nodded. “I never liked that part, myself. Seemed like a ridiculous requirement for the person who gave us life to hold over our heads,” she said.

“I know!” Hera said, laughing a bit. “I can’t say I felt much differently about the elven gods...feel much differently. I’m not sure they feel real to me, but at least we have something to blame for why they’re all gone. It’s Fen’Harel’s fault. They didn’t abandon us by choice, if you believe the stories. And the stories, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? They feel more like people and less like these perfect beings. Andraste and the Maker felt like people we could never hope to be like. But even Andruil,” Hera pointed at her face, the tattoos shifting with her smile, “was prideful.”

“I wonder if he knew,” Nyx mused.

“What?”

“The Changeling chose that design for you,” Nyx said. Hera blanched, but Nyx continued. “I mean, had he just seen it before and picked it at random? Or did he think the hunter goddess would suit you?”

“I doubt we’ll ever know,” Hera said. “And I don’t plan on asking him if I see him again. He’ll be dead before he can say a word.”

“ _Ir abelas_ ,” Nyx whispered. It still felt good to have elven words leave her tongue. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.

Hera shook her head. “It’s alright. I’ve wondered the same a few times. I don’t remember, was yours different?”

“My _vallaslin_?” Nyx asked. Hera nodded. “It was the design of Ghilan’nain.”

“Mother of the Halla, huh?” Hera said. “Beloved by Andruil, who made her the first halla to seek revenge on a hunter. Maybe he did know the significance. The two are connected, as are we.”

“Ours isn’t a nice story like theirs is,” Nyx said.

“What part of Ghilan’nain’s story is ‘nice?’ The part where she curses the hunter? Where he seeks vengeance on her and ends up blinding her and tying her up to be left for dead?” Hera said. “Andruil rescues her in the end, sure, but I wouldn’t say the story is nice. Some things are...are forged in fire.”

Nyx couldn’t disagree. She was about to say something else, changing the subject, when they heard footsteps at the stairs up ahead. The peaceful moment was over, and they readied themselves for the fight. Nyx’s fingers gripped Stargazer’s pommel until her knuckles were white, then she charged into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double post this week cause things have been kinda crappy and [postin' makes me feel good.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tdyU_gW6WE)
> 
> Plus this is mostly another filler chapter, but I wanted to include Soldier’s Peak for ~thematic importance~ and stuff. And because Starfang (renamed Stargazer for Nyx) is the best and it’s so pretty and shiny and I was very upset that I couldn’t keep it in Awakening. You get points if you know the song it’s (re)named for.
> 
> Also, something gives me the feeling you guys are going to miss these little filler chapters with what comes next. (ʃƪ¬‿¬)


	18. Here There Be Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early because family is visiting!

Artemis stayed by Leliana the whole time they were in the ruins. It helped that they were both the archers of the group, but she was also interested in what the ex-Chantry sister had to say about the place. Most of the time she was focused on her upset at the presence of the cultists, but Leliana was clearly mystified at the history lost here. Had the ruins been hidden, or forgotten?

Many of them breathed sighs of relief when they returned to the main hall at one point, sending Brother Genitivi back to Denerim. The man was older and not trained in combat of any kind. Artemis had thought him foolish for choosing to stay at all once the cultists started appearing, but a little prodding was all it took once they realized the place was full of them.

“Just keep in mind, these people you’ve encountered will not be the only dangers that await. Legend says that ‘Only the faithful shall lay eyes on the Sacred Ashes. Death and misfortune await the unbeliever. The Maker’s gaze has fallen on Andraste’s final resting place. He weeps for His beloved, and His wrath at Her betrayers endures,’” Genitivi said.

“Dramatic,” Cronus said. “I doubt the Maker actually watches this place.”

“Perhaps he does, or perhaps he doesn’t,” Genitivi said. The others were impressed at his ability to remain unfazed by Cronus’ scorn. “Anyone wise enough will see it is mostly metaphor and hyperbole. No one wants to hear, ‘Willy toiled for many a year to perfect the curious mechanisms that would shove a spike up the arse of the unwary intruder.’”

Cronus actually snorted in amusement, as did a few others. Artemis was impressed by anyone who could get a laugh out of the grump of the group. The only more impressive laughs would be any of Sten’s. So far, it seemed she might never hear one.

“We’ve already encountered a few traps, but those looked like ones the villagers laid,” Hera said.

“You four should keep towards the front then,” Nyx said, gesturing to her companions who knew about traps, “find all that you can and disable them. The rest of you...step lightly.” No one was going to argue with that.

With the key they’d pilfered off of one of the now dead cult members, they opened the door to progress further into the chambers. That was where they started to encounter traps besides the ones that villagers had recently placed. Much as Artemis hated it, she had to admit their placement was clever. She started to reach to disable a tripwire, when she noticed just in front of where she’d need to kneel to break the new trap, was a pressure plate from when the place was built. Artemis was lucky to have noticed in time.

Leliana hadn’t been as lucky. A spurt of flames emerged from the wall, and she managed to roll away quick enough that she wasn’t engulfed, but the fire still caught her arm. Leliana hissed first then gave a shout at the searing pain as she patted the flames down. Artemis stared in worry, but refocused when Cronus charged in, defending Leliana from an attacker with his blade. He had healing talent as well, and would be able to treat the burns.

Artemis disabled the fire trap above her tripwire, but a cultist was lunging towards her as her hands moved to the next task. She leapt back quickly, evading the man’s sword and causing him to stumble into the tripwire. The poison darts meant for enemies killed the cultist instead. Artemis managed to avoid all but one of the ones that flew past the man’s body.

She kept herself from crying out, pulling the dart out fast and squeezing the spot so it bled. Artemis was lucky it hadn’t sunken too deep beneath her flesh or penetrated in a place where pulling it out would have been the wrong thing to do. She was focused on draining the poison from her body. At least she didn’t have to disable the tripwire anymore.

Wynne found her when the room was clear of attackers, helping to suck out the rest of the poison. It was nasty work, but someone had to do it and the healer couldn’t close the wound until she had. Artemis thanked her once the job was done.

“These people are smarter than they look,” Hera scoffed. “Now we know that we’re not just dealing with madmen, but clever madmen.”

“Good, I thought the tons of crazy people trying to kill us would get dull,” Zevran said. “This will keep us on our toes.”

Artemis moved to Leliana, who held her arm even though the burns had been healed. It had scorched her armor pretty badly, leaving a portion exposed. If an enemy noticed, they could exploit the weakness.

“Will that be alright?” Artemis asked.

“Cronus healed it quick and well,” Leliana said. “I barely had time to think of the pain.”

“Your armor…” Artemis said, the words trailing off.

“It will be alright. It’s been weakened from wear,” Leliana said. She was smiling like nothing was wrong. “We can work on replacing it next time we are in a town.”

“Just not _this_ town,” Artemis said.

Leliana laughed a little. “Yes, I think we should avoid any cultist armorers. We’ll be going to Redcliffe once we have the Ashes, and we’ve made friends with a talented smith there. He’s the one who crafted proper armor for Sten.”

The Qunari made a noise, apparently within earshot. Artemis agreed with his sound of contention. The armor he wore fit him, true, but it had been visibly pieced together from smaller suits. It could hardly be called proper. Artemis knew that a man with great talent lived in Denerim.

“Master Wade would be better for the task,” she said. “He would be able to craft something stronger for Sten, as well. Once we’re back in Denerim, we ought to seek him out.”

“It may be a while before we’ve the chance to return,” Leliana said. “But that is a wonderful thought.”

The next room held the Holy Brazier. Seeing it unlit made Leliana very cross. Yet, as Nyx approached, it lit up in a flame all on its own. They heard something ahead unlock. The mysteries of the place would never cease.

As they passed more of the statues and sculptures, Leliana talked about the figures represented, namely Maferath and Archon Hessarian. There was a clear glimmer in her eye while she spoke of Andraste. Though the stories of their betrayal broke Leliana’s heart, there was something to revere about a woman who had enough influence to rouse the whole of Thedas with an exalted march and scare mortal men.

Artemis could relate to the love of strong women. Though this thought felt strange to have at the time. She was glad when Nyx called for the group to press on, progressing further into the ruins. Best to leave before Artemis could say something stupid.

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx didn’t even bother hearing Kolgrim out. She and all her companions were worn from the long trek through the caverns, as well as the fighting with various cultists and drakes. The scales would be worthwhile when they could reach Master Wade, but for the time being she just wanted this over and done with. Kolgrim and his men were the last thing between them and the Gauntlet.

Kolgrim went down fast, Nyx’s well timed strikes and powerful new blade proving too much for the man. Stargazer cut through his armor like paper, slashing into his waist. While his shield arm moved to protect the wound, Nyx doubled her blade around and came in from the other side, wounding his leg and causing him to fall to his knees. One final stab through his neck was enough to end that fight.

Kolgrim was not alone, however, and had two other warriors and a mage with him. The mage proved to be a bit of trouble. He kept hexing anyone who fought the warriors, but getting too close to the mage himself resulted in being stunned, left open for attack. It was a good thing they had Morrigan.

She surrounded the enemy mage with spirit magic, then gestured with her hand to close the magic around him. This spell was one that the Changeling had used during his ritual. It crushed the enemy mage’s whole body, his bones cracking as he started to hover in her grasp. The mage’s lungs were struggling to get air in through his closed throat. When Morrigan released him from the magic cage, he fell to the floor, already dead.

Which made fighting the remaining warriors that much easier. The battle was won within just minutes. Not surprising considering their number. Eleven people and two mabari would not be impressive against the massive forces of darkspawn they planned to face, but against four men they rarely had a problem. The drakes and dragonlings had been more of an issue, which was why the group slowed to a halt once Kolgrim was dead.

Nyx retrieved the horn for the dragon from his belt, ready to carry it outside. With the group she had assembled, it would be much easier to fight a High Dragon together. Last time she’d taken it on had been tense. They’d just completed the Landsmeet, and Nyx was furious. All that had happened there seemed smaller now, but at the time it had been her whole world crashing down.

Nyx had brought a group to fight the dragon out of pure spite, just so she had something to do that had nothing to do with honor or duty or the Grey Wardens. So she could drive arrows into something for herself instead of for Ferelden. It had been petty, but it felt really damn good.

Now it just felt inevitable. Nyx decided they ought to do it right away, avoiding any danger the dragon might pose if they took the wrong step, and preventing it from causing harm to the people who Leliana would start to bring here on pilgrimage. Besides, if Wade could do something with drake scales, surely he could also manage to make something out of a dragon’s scales as well.

For now, however, the group needed a rest. They sat and pulled out some of the food they had along with them. Mostly it was dried meats or fruits. The mages needed time to replenish their mana, but all of them needed the energy that food and a nap could give them.

They decided shifts, not wanting to take too long of a break in the creepy cavern. Not one of them had trouble sleeping, even with the uncomfortable location and the lack of bedrolls and blankets. Nyx still laid her head on Alistair, even though his metal armor wasn’t soft and warm like when her cheek was on his skin. She’d gotten used to sleeping with the sound of his heart beating in her ear.

Nyx was shaken awake later, and it felt too soon even though she knew it was time for her watch. At least Alistair was with her. Nyx remembered a goofy little word game she played as a child riding in the aravel. Tamlen had been too good at it that she often stopped playing out of frustration for losing. Nyx was smarter now, and Alistair’s wit for wordplay ended up an even match. It was something to pass the time, at least, until they needed to wake the ones that slept and get moving again.

“You know, I’ve never played that game before. Not that I had many friends to play with when I was a boy, but I thought I at least knew the rules to anything I might one day get the chance to play,” Alistair said. Nyx felt for him whenever he brought up his lonely childhood, but he spoke of it so casually. Either he’d made peace with it, or it was more of his humor to cover the hurt.

Nyx still had to explain the fact that she knew a Dalish children’s game, though. Not that he would have guessed it was Dalish. “My brother and I made it up,” Nyx said, thinking of the memories of little Fergus. He had been her first and best friend. She hoped he was alright, even without Hera to intervene and find him.

“Now I’m imagining what you must have looked like when you were young. I don’t recall Arl Eamon ever taking me with him to Highever. If he had, we might have met years ago,” Alistair said. “We could have been friends. I bet I would have even had a crush on you.”

“I was different back then,” Nyx said with a coy smile. “I probably would have played pranks on you. It was how I learned to show affection.” Which had been Tamlen’s fault entirely. The other Dalish children had been the victims of Nyx and Tamlen’s wild youth. “Just be glad I grew out of that.”

“Yes, thank the Maker,” Alistair said. “I much prefer the way you…‘show your affection,’ now.” He waggled his eyebrows and Nyx had to laugh.

“I’ve changed my mind. I _absolutely_ would have played pranks on you,” Nyx said.

♢♢♢♢♢

They had a plan prepared before Nyx was ready to blow the horn. The High Dragon swooped down on them, landing on the ground with a large thud that shook them. Leliana and Artemis were already positioned and ready to shoot. They fired as soon as they had a clear view.

The dragon’s scream was terrible and ear-splitting. Nyx saw that Sten remembered weak spots from their fight against Flemeth and was already moving to strike at them. The mages did their best to empower the others or weaken the dragon. Pure magical attacks would wound it, but it was better to leave that to the people with swords and daggers.

Cronus, however, had both magic and a sword. He iced the blade and slashed at the dragon’s hind leg. The noise it made signaled that this caused a great deal of pain to the beast. Ice seemed to be the element of the day. Cronus spread his enchantment to cover every blade in ice, as well as the arrowheads from Leliana and Artemis. He was too busy with this tactic to notice the dragon’s mighty tail flying towards him before it knocked him clean off his feet.

The beast was turning around, ready to attack Cronus further, but Nyx and Alistair fought to get its attention. The two of them were side by side as they cleaved upwards, carving lines in the softer underbelly. The dragon’s head whipped back towards them, a spark in its mouth indicating the fire about to roast them alive. Alistair was quick, pulling Nyx away before the flames shot from the dragon’s mouth.

“That was close,” he breathed.

Smoke billowed from the creature’s nose. Its neck extended, snapping its teeth at the warriors. Nyx lifted Stargazer and cut the dragon’s face. It reeled away, blood pouring from the gaping wound. The dragon lifted itself back into the air, flying around to get the advantage back.

But Artemis was ready, nocking another arrow and pointing it to the sky. She’d not much experience with moving targets, not like the Dalish who would sometimes hunt wildfowl, but she trusted her aim to be true. Artemis let it fly. The arrowhead punched through one of the creature’s wings and it cried in pain.

“Yes!” Artemis shouted, pumping a fist in the air. The battle wasn’t done, but she’d forced the dragon back to the ground.

With its last few seconds of flight, the dragon breathed fire above the group. They grew incredibly hot, and Wynne’s robes caught fire for a moment, but it hadn’t done any more damage than that. They still had the advantage.

Shale charged forward, the blue crystals Nyx had given him shining with iced energy. He rammed a fist against the creature. Where Shale’s stone knuckles had connected, frost bloomed over the scales. He threw another punch, and broke the spot that had frozen over. A patch of flesh was exposed.

When the mages saw what Shale managed to do, each of them smiled and prepared an ice spell. Cold magic spotted the dragon’s body, and the warriors took advantage of where the scales had weakened, striking their blades against these patches. More of its protection shattered away, exposing raw, pulsating flesh. The dragon screamed.

Artemis and Leliana focused their aim and sank arrow after arrow through the dragon’s skin. In response to the attacks, the dragon was growing wild and manic, spitting fire all around itself. Hera’s armor was singed and Nyx’s hair caught for a moment before she frantically patted it out. Those that had been up close were now running and rolling out of the way of the dragon’s panicked spew.

Sten bravely took up his blade, charging in while the beast focused on those that ran away. He slid down, swinging in a wide arc and catching on the dragon’s underbelly. Sten tore through the rough hide, pulling his sword until he’d created a gaping hole in the creature’s stomach. Guts started to spill into piles of gore. The dragon’s legs were giving out in its weakened state.

Artemis drove three more arrows into the dragon’s neck. It choked, unable to breathe anymore fire. The beast flung its tail at Sten, knocking him a few feet away. He laid still on the ground. Nyx came up at the dragon’s front, pushing the tip of Stargazer into the underside of the dragon’s neck and lifting the blade through the flesh. Viscera from the wound Sten had created spilled further as the dragon started to fall. A blood spray smacked Nyx in the face, but she continued to carve into the beast.

When the High Dragon’s head started to fall, Nyx finally stopped attacking and stepped back quick as she could. The creature had collapsed, bleeding out. Within minutes the light left its eyes.

“Holy shit!” Artemis shouted, gaining everyone’s attention. Leliana’s face colored with concern. “That was fucking amazing!” Artemis was celebrating. Leliana relaxed.

Amongst the gore from the dragon’s stomach, there were the glints of metal. People the dragon had eaten, most likely. It was disgusting, but Sten dug through it anyway to see what was salvageable. He and many others were already covered in the beast’s blood, so it wasn’t like they could get much messier. They would need to pause again before continuing forward towards the Ashes.

Perseus ended up getting a new collar out of the ordeal, some fine runes carved onto one side of the leather like it spelled out a name. Sten found a new breastplate, gauntlets, and greaves, miraculously large enough to fit his body. He stalked off to clean it before changing out of the shabbily cobbled together armor he currently wore. Nyx was reminded that she needed to collect some dragon scales for Master Wade. Shale groaned, but agreed to carry the pack with those and the drake scales, as it was becoming quite a heavy burden.

Wynne and Cronus healed those who needed as usual, as well as Wynne drawing out a bit of cloth to at least allow the warriors to wipe their faces. Nyx thought of the final test of the Gauntlet, cleansing themselves in a holy fire that didn’t actually burn. She wished there was something to truly clean their bodies.

What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath with fine Orlesian soaps and scented oils from Antiva or Rivain. She would bet Hera was thinking something similar. Though her Dalish side was used to the outdoors and travel, Nyx had become accustomed to the perks of nobility as well. She wasn’t fully one or the other, but she couldn’t be both. One day, she’d have to give up her elven heritage for good. That day should have been when she went to the Changeling for his ritual.

With their faces cleaned and their armor wiped down as much as they could manage to, given their conditions, they readied themselves for the last task. Ahead was where the Urn of Sacred Ashes was housed. Eamon could be cured, preparations for the Landsmeet made, and then they’d head on to Orzammar. Nyx wasn’t liking the thought of returning to the Deep Roads, but she thought of Oghren and his ridiculous drunken humor and smiled to herself. The camp was much less lively without the dwarf, and his presence would be a welcome addition.

For now she needed to focus. What came next was the Gauntlet, which she would steel herself for. There were riddles, a puzzle at some point, and she remembered fighting her shadow self and seeing a ghostly apparition of Tamlen. It had broken her heart, and soon afterwards she saw the real Tamlen again. Nyx felt sick at that memory. It wasn’t something she believed she was able to face again.

First, however, they would speak to the Guardian, an armored spirit with no name or identity that watched over the Ashes and protected them from men like Kolgrim. Nyx had still felt so much guilt at allowing Tamlen to die that she blamed herself when the spirit asked her...

Nyx stopped walking. Artemis, just behind her, nearly stumbled into Nyx’s back at the sudden pause. Perseus whined, sensing that something was wrong. Scooby—and in turn, Hera—took notice of this. Nyx held her head, eyes wide open as she started to shake.

_Creators, no,_ she thought. _Maker...Andraste… Someone please tell me I’m wrong!_

Hera’s hand fell onto Nyx’s back. Nyx turned to her, and Hera jumped when she saw the fear in the other woman’s eyes. Was there something she’d forgotten to warn about? Hera needed to talk to her to be sure, but she couldn’t do it here, with everyone listening in.

Alistair was starting to reach for Nyx, too. “What’s wrong? You stopped so suddenly,” he said, his voice soft.

“Let me talk to her,” Hera said, tugging at Nyx’s arm.

“I’ll come with you,” Alistair offered, but Hera shook her head.

“Alone,” Hera clarified. “We’ll be back in just a second, I promise. Percy, Scoob, c’mon.”

Hera did not want to look at the variety of pained, confused, and concerned faces crowding behind her. Nyx didn’t need that right now. This was no way to get things done. Scooby woofed softly.

The girls and their mabari needed their space. The dogs were bonded to their masters, and the women were bonded to one another. _Family_ , Hera had said. Was this how Fergus had felt when he looked after young Hera?

Hera found a stone that looked flat enough to make a decent seat, and guided Nyx to it. Nyx was still trembling and breathing in a patternless mess of effort and struggle. Perseus placed his large head on her lap, beady eyes staring up at her. Hera had no idea why the woman broke down like this, but she’d seen her do it enough times now that she knew being rough wasn’t the answer. Even if that was what Hera was best at, she’d have to resist the urge and try for something soothing.

“Shh, Nyx. You have to tell me what’s wrong or I can’t help you,” Hera said. Maker, she was bad at mothering. “Just...breathe.”

“I can’t,” Nyx said on an inhale.

“Yes, you can. Just try,” Hera said.

Nyx took a sputtering breath in, then released it, shaking a little less. She was starting to calm, but her mind reeled back to the panic and started the whole thing over again within seconds. Hera gave up on calm sweetness and took Nyx’s hands to keep her from pulling at her face.

“Hey,” Hera said. “Listen to me. I need to know what’s wrong. You just stopped back there and...I don’t know what happened. Was it the dragon?” Nyx shook her head. “The Ashes?” Nyx paused, contemplating, but shook her head again. “The...what did you call it, the Gauntlet?” Nyx nodded. Hera breathed. “Did you forget something about it? Some deadly test that we need to be warned about?”

“No,” Nyx said. “I mean, yes, I forgot. I can’t believe of all things...Voids take me I _knew_ it would happen.”

“Just tell me,” Hera said. “Please, I promise I’ll understand.”

“The spirit knows. He knows _everything_. I don’t know if he searches your soul or your memory or…” Nyx said, then started to hyperventilate again. “He _knows,_ ” she sobbed.

“What do you mean? What spirit?”

“When we first enter the Gauntlet there is going to be a spirit called the Guardian. The first test isn’t the riddles like I told you, but I forgot… He’ll ask everyone about something very personal. Something they might feel ashamed for or regret. Before, he asked me about Tamlen, and I told him I felt responsible for not stopping him,” Nyx said.

“You and I both know he wouldn’t have stopped,” Hera said.

“I know, I know…” Nyx pulled her hands back from Hera and hugged herself. “What I mean is, I don’t think that’s what he’s going to ask me this time.” Their eyes met, and the same realization Nyx had clicked in Hera’s head.

“The spirit will ask about the Changeling’s ritual,” Hera said. It felt like the air had left her.

Nyx was nodding. “Even if he doesn’t ask you, he will ask me. I’ll have to face it...in front of everyone. It was foolish to think we could keep it from them. We were wrong. They deserve to know. They do.”

“Maybe we can just...take the ones who already know. Leave the rest to wait outside,” Hera suggested.

“You really think Leliana will stay behind?” Nyx said. “Or Wynne? Or Alistair?”

Hera bit her lip. “So what are you saying?” Hera already knew. Of course she did, she wasn’t a fool, but she had to hear Nyx say it for herself.

“I have to tell them the truth,” Nyx said. “Right now. I don’t want the spirit to be the one that forces it out of me. I want to do it of my own accord. But...I’m not sure I can.” She swallowed hard and tried to bite back tears.

“I’ll help you,” Hera said. “Whatever backup you need, I’ll give it. I’m the one who deserves to hate you, right? If they see I’ve moved past it, they’ll have to forgive you. They should see…” It sounded like a lie even as she said it. But she needed to at least convince herself. Hera’s heart was pounding, the same way she was positive Nyx’s must have been. Feelings are traitors to rationality.

Nyx took another minute to find her breath, then stood. It was no use delaying any longer. She caught Alistair’s eye, who had been watching as he waited for them to return. He tried for a smile, but couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes. Nyx wanted to stop time, let it stand still. There was a chance this would be the last time Alistair looked at her like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry guys. This isn’t going to be pretty.


	19. To Be Worthy

Everyone stood just ahead of Nyx in a semicircle, waiting. Except for Hera, who stood at her side. Hera looked for Zevran first, nodding at him once. Then she found Morrigan and did the same. They would require all the support they could get. Hera looked at Nyx with a whisper on her lips.

“Start whenever you’re ready,” Hera said.

Nyx’s jaw trembled as she opened her mouth to find the words she needed. “Before we enter the temple, there’s something I need to confess to all of you,” she said. No one interrupted. There was a soft howling in the wind, but otherwise there was no sound. Nyx spoke again, “I’m not...who you think I am.

“My name, before, was Nyx Mahariel. What the abomination we met called me. I was Dalish.”

Nyx took a deep breath. She had to keep talking until she was done. No more breakdowns. Not until she’d said all she needed to. It took all her willpower to keep from panicking again, and even then her heartbeat was swift. 

“I’ve lived through this before. All of it. Finding allies, healing Arl Eamon, and fighting the Blight. We...we won.” Nyx tried to smile. That was good news, right?

“But…” Her smile faltered. “Not without a cost. T-to...to kill the Archdemon, we had to…” She closed her eyes. Nyx couldn’t say this when she knew his eyes were on her. “Alistair died.”

Her voice broke in a sob. Still, no one spoke. Nyx found the strength to reopen her eyes.

“I should have just been able to grieve and live, but I couldn’t. It took me over a year, but I found someone who could send me back. I thought I just needed to go far enough to stop you from...to prevent that from happening again, but this person, the Changeling, he offered more,” Nyx said. “It’s hard to explain the circumstances that lead to this but, you were going to be made King.”

This, of all the things she’d said thus far, got the most notable reaction out of Alistair. It was him she was speaking to now. The others needed to hear it, but this was for his sake. Right now, Nyx couldn’t imagine he was much more besides confused.

“But I was still just an elf. I couldn’t...they wouldn’t let me…” She took in a shaking breath, releasing it in a quiet hiss. The further she went into the story, the harder it became.

“She had to be of a noble house,” Hera said for her. Nyx looked over in surprise. Hera had promised support, but this was more help than Nyx expected. For it, she was grateful. “The Changeling offered to make her human, give her the life of a noblewoman, and send her all the way back to before the battle at Ostagar. To do it she had to take an existing life. That was mine. My name is Hera Cousland.” There was no way anyone could doubt the truth of that statement, for the air Hera had was always that of a woman of high standing. She showed that even now.

Nyx could not stop her body from shaking. She looked to the gathered crowd with fear in her eyes, and saw that fear reflected in them. They were scared. Of Nyx, of what she had done. She’d known to anticipate anger. But this? This was far worse.

“You’re...this is a really terrible joke,” Alistair said. Every word was forced.

“I wouldn’t joke about this, and neither would she,” Hera said. Nyx’s mouth was dry. She just let Hera continue speaking for her. “Denial does you no favors. Trust me. You might remember that when we first met, I was trying to kill her? That was why.”

Alistair’s face twisted. Nyx felt so small.

“Who are you, really?” he asked. “How much of this has been...lies?”

“Alistair…” Nyx tried to speak, but found her voice abandoned her after just one word.

He was shaking his head, backing away. Nyx was a stranger. Every memory Alistair had of her shined in a new light, and he hated each thing he realized. “She said ‘before Ostagar.’ So...you knew? You knew about Duncan and you said _nothing?_ ”

“I did try to tell him,” Nyx said quickly. “I told him he ought to quit the field, but he insisted on protecting Cailan. He made me swear I wouldn’t tell you because he thought you’d try to go with him.”

“And then after that? After all of that you just conveniently forgot to mention all of this?” Alistair said. His voice was raising with each time he spoke.

“How do you think that would have gone over?” Hera said, stepping forward in a challenge. “She had a reason to wait this long. You might not like it, but Nyx has done all she can to save people. Sten, for example.” The Qunari straightened at that. “Nyx hadn’t known what to do to see you freed. You died, too, when Lothering was attacked.”

“Hera,” Nyx said.

“What?!” Hera shouted, whipping around. “That convinced _me._ ”

“Just...don’t,” Nyx said. “Not like that. I didn’t help to make Sten indebted to me. Or anyone.”

“Hold on just a minute,” Wynne said. She pushed to stand in front of some of the others. “I have heard of many kinds of magic, but never the kind that would allow for...this. What sort of mage did you turn to? Or was it a mage at all?”

“He is...was a mage. The Changeling. Now he’s the abomination that pursued us in the forest’s ruins,” Nyx said.

“Then a demon was involved in your dealings,” Wynne said.

“No!” Nyx said, then recoiled. “No, it was… He…”

“It was dark magic, if that’s the answer you’re looking for,” Hera clarified.

Nyx cringed again. She couldn’t think of any way to break this to them lightly, but surely there was something gentler than that.

Hera wasn’t one for beating around the bush. “It almost killed me. I think it was supposed to. He looked rather surprised when he found me on the other side.”

“Do you realize what repercussions this action might’ve held?” Wynne said, outraged. “You say you lived this before, which means you were no stranger to the dangers of dark magic. You had already seen what blood magic and demons could do to the Circle, is that correct? And still you pursued this?”

“It could have turned out far worse,” Morrigan argued. “Considering.”

Alistair glared at the witch, when clarity struck him. “You knew?”

“Do not take offense. Nyx informed me with reason. I am involved in that which saves your life, which—need I remind you—was her entire cause,” Morrigan said. “Though I’ve never really understood it. One would think you’d be thankful to hear the lengths she’s gone through to rescue you from an early grave.”

“So what should I be saying? ‘Thank you for performing some dark ritual that nearly killed someone, lying to me this entire time, and not even having the decency to mention any of this before…before...’” Alistair couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, his words ending in a tense exhale. His whole face and neck were red while his jaw sat tight, straining with rage.

“Is this a bad time to point out that I knew as well?” Zevran said, raising a finger. “Though—ah—it was Hera who informed me, in truth. And only recently.”

“How could you be willing to take someone’s life like that?” Leliana said. She wasn’t angry like Alistair, but saddened. Her voice broke, her trust betrayed. “To think...I thought I knew you.”

Nyx was rendered speechless once more. She was meant to be their leader. Before she’d been forced into it, failed at many a turn, and still she felt she’d done better then. Nyx had been brave, stepping forward into each challenge that came to her. Now she kept breaking down, unable to speak, barely able to breathe, and reluctant to meet the heated gazes pointed at her. Nyx did not feel like a leader.

“Why now?” Artemis questioned, cocking her head to the side.

This got Leliana’s attention. “What do you mean?” she said.

“Why tell us here and now, when we were just about to get the Ashes? It’s odd timing,” Artemis said. “If it were me, I know I’d rather do it at camp, where we’re comfortable and relaxed. Not in the same place where we just fought a dragon.”

Nyx wanted to explain this one herself. Hera looked like she was about to step forward, but Nyx took her arm, shaking her head. “Inside are a series of trials. The very first is to answer a question about your past. I assumed that the spirit within would know, and wanted to tell you of my own right instead of letting you hear it from him.”

“And if you hadn’t been forced into it you would have never told us?” Alistair said.

“I...can’t say for sure,” Nyx admitted. “I won’t lie anymore. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Everything you need to expect, I’ll do what I can to help. The first thing I can tell you is that the Sacred Ashes work. Arl Eamon will live. But that means we need to get through the Gauntlet.”

“She means the test,” Hera said. “Inside the temple.”

There were a series of exchanged glances, with varying questions passing silently through the group. Perseus whined at Nyx’s side, and Scooby whined too, in solidarity. There was an agreement that spread through them; they needed to get the Ashes for Arl Eamon. This issue with Nyx could be dealt with later. The trials would be a welcome distraction for many of them.

Hera and Zevran hovered around Nyx as they went, Perseus ever at her side. She explained each of the trials briefly, knowing that together it would be easy to handle the tests. She’d come with a smaller group last time, and wondered if things might change based on the number she had with her.

The first test with the Guardian went as expected. Zevran and Morrigan actually managed to avoid their secrets being told, but Nyx still didn’t regret her honesty. That was a surprise. She’d known it would come eventually, even when she’d spoken with Hera about keeping quiet, Nyx never actually believed in it. If she didn’t choose it, something would force her to one day. By telling everyone, a weight had been lifted. What hurt Nyx were the things that replaced it.

When the Guardian asked her if she regretted all that she’d done, she was honest. “I wish there had been a better way, but no. I don’t regret it.” Nyx felt a few of the others tense around her in judgment. It was her truth, and the Guardian seemed impressed by it.

Hera was asked about it as well, but the question was posed differently. The spirit asked if she still held hatred in her heart, and if she felt guilty about her ability to forgive. “Of course I’m still angry. I’d expect any rational person to be. But…” Hera said, dipping her eyes down. “Nyx has proven herself to me.”

Of Alistair the Guardian asked about Ostagar. If Alistair wished it had been his life instead of Duncan’s. “Not _my_ life, no,” he said, and left it at that. Nyx would not fault him for little cruelties. She deserved it, she told herself. Hera’s hands balled into fists, but she said nothing for Nyx’s sake.

Those remaining gave their truths in turn, then they continued onto the riddles. Nyx remembered the answer to each one, and passed that test with ease. Leliana seemed to have brightened in the Gauntlet, seeing things meant for true believers of the Maker and Andraste. Wynne, despite herself, was cheered as well. Alistair remained stony-faced as they progressed onwards.

For the next trial, Nyx honestly wasn’t sure what she would see. She would have actually felt some semblance of relief if the ghostly Tamlen stood before her again, reassuring her that she had done all she could for him. She worried about seeing the Changeling instead. What she saw did not fill her with dread, as the mage would have, but it didn’t lift her spirits either.

Nyx actually heard a couple of gasps behind her. Before them stood a slightly shorter, unmistakably elven version of Nyx. Her _vallaslin_ was there, but hidden under black bangs, as it always had been. She had a longbow on her back, but only one arrow in her quiver. The elven Nyx smiled at the real Nyx’s approach.

“ _Aneth ara_ ,” the vision said.

“I...wasn’t expecting this,” real Nyx said, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“You didn’t expect a lot of what you encountered. But you faced it nevertheless. Until the day you wanted to run from it all,” the vision said. “Your arrow missed.”

“I’m not an archer anymore,” Nyx said.

“I know you don’t remember who you are. You think you’ve changed, you’re irredeemable, but look around you. You confessed the truth and still they remain at your side. That’s already more than you thought would happen. You’ve come a long way from wanting to die when you faced the Archdemon,” the vision said.

Nyx’s shoulders stiffened to her sides. “It would have been better if I died on Fort Drakon.”

“Do you really believe that?” the vision asked. “I already know the answer, but I also know that you see the changes you’ve been able to make. You wondered about weighing bad actions against good. Haven’t you saved more people? Wasn’t that all you wanted to do?”

“Not enough,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “I’ve not done enough.”

“Then when will you be done?” the vision said. “You’ve done this before, so you know that I am a part of you. Well, let me say the thing you need to hear from yourself more than anything: I forgive you. Let yourself be forgiven, and the rest will come with time. He didn’t want us to die, because he believed in us. Remember that. Oh, and since I’m still part of the Gauntlet…” The vision handed her a trinket that held a powerful enchantment. “It’s my duty to give you this. I wish you luck. _Dareth shiral_.”

The vision faded away, the last look Nyx would ever get at her old self. She’d been so wrapped up in the conversation, she’d nearly forgotten that the others could see and hear her. What had they thought of that? None of them had known she’d intended to die. It was a part of the story Nyx always wanted to skip over.

Before anyone could speak a word in response to what they’d seen, Nyx walked to the next chamber, where their shadow selves waited. Having just seen a version of herself, it was jarring to face the human Nyx. This was the false mask she’d been wearing. It was fitting to cut this one down, making peace with the Dalish Nyx in conversation.

All that remained was the platform puzzle. The Gauntlet had complicated it to account for the much larger number of people. It wouldn’t let this be so easy. Nyx explained how to find the solution by standing on the platforms to form a bridge that made one capable of crossing the gap.

“I’ll be the one to walk across,” Nyx said. She would not have any of them risk their lives in her place. She didn’t believe any of them would even offer if she gave the chance. “Once I make it to the other side, a full bridge should form. It’s meant to...to test your ability to trust in your companions.”

Perseus barked loudly, bumping against her legs. He was not going to let her go alone. She rubbed his head. Nyx could never say no to that face.

Though Nyx was the one to risk her life walking across the bridge, Hera was the one giving the commands, making absolutely certain that no one let Nyx fall. Not by accident, not on purpose, not at all. The many, many platforms created odd gaps, and Hera always kept note of the two people standing on the ones that held Nyx safely in place. It took them almost thirty full minutes to figure out the complex puzzle, but Nyx made it to the other side, and a solid bridge formed for the rest of the group.

Then came…

“Oh no,” Nyx breathed.

The fire. They all had to undress. She read the etching aloud first, letting the clever minded among them come to the conclusion on their own. Nyx laid Stargazer down, then slid her hands to the buckles of her armor.

She wouldn’t have minded stripping down so much if there weren’t also a complexity of emotions filling the air. Nyx kept her gaze high and left just her smalls on. The Guardian had accepted this last time, and she prayed to any god that would answer her that he wouldn’t decide she needed to bare her naked ass before the Maker just to have this over and done with. Nyx made sure to mention to the others that they could keep their smallclothes on, as well.

“So the other tests prove our character, and this proves...what?” Cronus complained. “That we look good naked? I never thought Andraste was vain, but perhaps I’ve been wrong this whole time.”

“It is about bravery,” Leliana said, indignant. “Trusting in the Maker to protect you and stepping into the flames.”

“Sort of helps when we’ve got someone who already knows we can survive,” Cronus said.

Nyx would not take the bait. However he meant to goad her into a response, she refused to let him. Nyx stepped through to the other side of the fire, then waited for the rest of them. Shale was asking if he needed to remove his crystals, but decided it was safe enough to leave them be. Perseus and Scooby had kept their collars on, as well. Thankfully, the Guardian wasn’t too picky about the rules.

When the flames disappeared, Nyx couldn’t make it back to her armor fast enough. She was pretty sure that, armored or not, a fire would roast her alive. Whomever had created this final test was truly horrid.

She’d managed to successfully avoid looking anywhere she wouldn’t want to, and placed Stargazer on her back again. When the rest were ready, Nyx took a pinch of the Sacred Ashes, placing them in the small bag she’d prepared for the purpose of holding them. She breathed a sigh of relief as she covered the Urn and moved back down the stairs.

♢♢♢♢♢

Camp had seemed like a good thing, before, but upon reaching it, Nyx realized that this just meant everyone was free to either avoid or confront her as they pleased. Alistair was going for the former, which she tried to tell herself she preferred over his shouting. She didn’t like either, but at least one option gave them the chance to think.

Nyx was pleasantly surprised at dinner, having not only Hera and Zevran sit near her to show support, but Morrigan and Cronus as well. Cronus had a lot of questions about the Changeling. Nyx didn’t know a large majority of the things he wanted to, but gave him what knowledge she could. He was impressed by the power the mage held. Nyx didn’t bother talking him down. Power was power, and there were those who would want it no matter the cost.

When Sten approached, Nyx had no idea what to expect. They stared at each other for nearly a full minute before he spoke.

“I thank you for freeing me,” Sten said. “Though it was foolish to have entrusted your life to a _bas saarebas,_ you were able to spare me a dishonorable death.”

“You’re welcome,” Nyx said, though she voiced it more like a question. She hadn’t understood the Qunlat he used, but at least got the sentiment. Sten nodded, and stalked back off. He’d done his duty and was satisfied.

“Qunari will never make sense to me,” Hera said.

There was quiet chatter amongst them, though Nyx didn’t actually take part in it. She ate silently, lost to her thoughts. There was so much more she’d yet to tell the rest of them. Many things that she needed to prepare them for. Would Alistair even listen to her anymore? Nyx wasn’t certain Wynne would ever forgive her either, and Leliana had been so heartbroken.

Shale had mentioned that he didn’t care on the way back, even cracking a joke. “What it did really took stones, so I can appreciate the effort, at least,” Shale had said.

Nyx had smiled weakly at that, trying to show she appreciated the attempt. There were certainly more people supporting her than she’d expected. Of course, where it counted most, she was still lacking. Nyx was happy that she wasn’t simply alone.

She dared to look in Alistair’s direction. She’d avoided doing that most of the night, giving him space in every way possible, but she wanted to see how he was doing. Alistair was sitting with Wynne, over by her tent. Both of them wore rather serious expressions. Nyx had never been able to read lips, but still squinted in a poor attempt. Wynne noticed, and Nyx turned back to Hera.

“I swear, if she makes it worse for you, so help me…” Hera said.

“I don’t understand why you are so protective of her,” Morrigan said. “Did you not wish to kill her when the Blight was ended? Was that not the agreement you made?”

Zevran raised his brow. “This was not something I heard about,” he said.

“You know I wanted her dead at the start of all this,” Hera said. “One of the things that convinced me to stay on was the promise that I would get to kill her once her duty as a Warden was complete. Not that I’m going to do that anymore.” Hera turned her head towards Nyx. “Were you really going to let me?”

“Yes, if that was what you wanted,” Nyx said.

“I don’t get you,” Hera said with a sigh. “You fight for all of this to keep him, and you would have died? Just like that?”

“After I came through the other side, I remembered there were more important things than my own happiness,” Nyx said.

“You’re wrong,” Hera said. “You should come first in your life. No one else is going to look out for you and make sure you’re happy. Besides, you dragged me into this with the intention of keeping Alistair.” Hera pointed an accusing finger at Nyx. “Don’t waste that.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Artemis let Leliana do most of the talking, as she usually would. Tonight, more than most, Leliana needed this. Artemis hadn’t known Nyx as long and hadn’t considered her as close, so she didn’t relate to the depth of the reactions she was seeing. Honestly, Artemis wasn’t bothered by this revelation at all. It didn’t change who Nyx was in her mind. From a logical perspective, this had saved more lives and Hera didn’t even lose hers in the process. Artemis had a hard time finding the downside, until she listened to Leliana.

“I don’t even know if she already knew about Marjolaine. Had I trusted her with that once before? Had we been friends? I don’t know how much of this was different,” Leliana said. “I know she offered to tell us anything we needed to know, but how do you start to ask those things?”

“I don’t know,” Artemis said.

“And what of the Maker? What must he think of what she’s done? He still sent me that sign, sent me with the Grey Wardens. I...for the first time, I think I might regret the decision to come along,” Leliana said.

“You don’t mean that,” Artemis said. “Remember what you told the spirit? You know what you believe. If the Maker sent you here, you belong here.”

“Is it really that simple?” Leliana asked.

“It can be.”

“And what do you think of these things?”

Artemis looked up at the stars. “Despite how I was lead to you, I’m glad I ended up here. I can’t imagine being anywhere else,” she said. She looked back at Leliana, her eyes narrowed with intensity. “Nyx went back to fix a mistake. If you could go back and prevent what happened with Marjolaine, even knowing that it lead you here, would you do it?”

“That is...not an easy question to answer,” Leliana admitted. “Who knows all that might have changed. Perhaps I would still be in Orlais. I might have never found peace with the Maker, or been able to see the Temple of Sacred Ashes with my own eyes. I cannot claim not to understand the intentions of her actions, but I cannot see the justification for them.”

“I wouldn’t go back,” Artemis said. “Maybe I could have protected Shianni. Maybe I could have done a couple of things better, but would I be able to leave the Alienage again? If my intended had survived, would I have been married off to him in the end, anyway? I don’t want...I don’t want to be trapped again.”

Leliana laid her hand over Artemis’ fingers. They were bone-thin and cold as ice, but Leliana’s palm was warm. Artemis was able to smile at that, and at the sensation of the other woman’s thumb brushing against her skin.

“I admit, I never understood the problem the elves had with Alienages before,” Leliana said. “Hera made me think differently about it, and you have similarly opened my eyes. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“That wasn’t the only thing that trapped me,” Artemis said. Leliana’s face was closer than usual. Artemis did not move away. “I truly did not wish to marry Nelaros. But my father never accepted…” She couldn’t bear looking at Leliana anymore. Her eyes dipped down, her next words nearly a whisper, “He knew I had no interest in men.”

Leliana moved back in her surprise. “Some people have a harder time accepting the pieces of us they do not expect,” she said slowly. She’d not removed her hand. In fact, she had only tightened the hold she had on Artemis’ fingers. “I am no stranger to these things.”

“You enjoy the company of other women?” Artemis asked, meeting Leliana’s gaze once more.

“What would you do if I said I do? Very much so, in fact?” Leliana said, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Perhaps, I might try something like this…” Artemis moved forward, closing the gap between them, and kissed Leliana. Her heart fluttered as Leliana, rather than resisting or rejecting this advance, deepened the kiss, opening her mouth in an invitation. Artemis pressed harder against her, then pulled back. Leliana’s face was the perfect combination of flustered and bewildered.

“Hmm…well that is… You have given me something to consider,” Leliana said. “Maker, but isn’t it warm tonight.” She fanned herself, looking for an excuse for the color glowing on her face.

Artemis giggled. “You’re adorable,” she said.

“Don’t you tease me now,” Leliana said. “Doing things like that...what will they think?”

“Probably that we would make a very good couple,” Artemis said with a smirk.

Leliana shook her head, still glowing. “It has been quite a long time since I’ve enjoyed someone’s company so much. You make me feel so comforted, just listening with such patience. And in battle, you are always by my side, looking after me, and I feel safer for it. To think...you have felt similarly… Oh, you should have said something sooner!”

“I was waiting for the moment to be right,” Artemis said with a shrug. “I’m glad to know it finally came.”

“Me too,” Leliana admitted.

They stayed like this only few moments longer, before leaving their solitude and going to join Nyx and the others. Nyx startled at their approach, but watched silently as they sat. Artemis and Leliana had spoken a bit more about the situation, and reached an agreeable conclusion.

“I wanted to let you know that I am not angry with you,” Leliana said. “While I still do wish you had...informed us sooner, your hesitance is not without reason. As a bard, I know what it is like to do crazy things in the name of love. It is the subject of many a story. I only hope that yours...does not end in tragedy.”

Artemis waited to see how Nyx would take this. Nyx looked, above all else, surprised by what Leliana said, but not displeased. Artemis figured enough time had passed, and asked, “So what has changed? What differences have you found in this life that you didn’t experience before?”

Nyx cleared her throat, but stopped before she spoke. The two mages that had been keeping them company were standing to leave.

“Do not mind us,” Morrigan said. “’Tis becoming a bit of a crowd.”

Nyx nodded, though watched as the two of them left before attempting to speak again. “There are a few people here who were not before. Sten, among them, but also Hera, Cronus, and you.” Nyx was looking at Artemis. “There are lives I was able to spare, this time. Danyla and Murdock are the first that come to mind, but I hope there were those in Lothering who understood my warnings and left as soon as they were able. Other things...smaller things have shifted, but my influence has been minimal, yet.”

“You must have plans,” Artemis said. “What do we need to know?”

“Perhaps this is best discussed when everyone is here,” Nyx said. Her eyes moved, but she stopped her head from fully turning to where Alistair sat again. She couldn’t keep staring mournfully and lovelorn.

“Then just tell us what comes next,” Artemis said.

“Redcliffe,” Nyx said. “We go to Redcliffe and cure the Arl. After he is better, we will need to go to Orzammar to receive their aid with the treaty. There will be even greater complications when we arrive, but it’s hard to get into all of that now.”

“Why not just tell us?”

Nyx whipped around. Alistair was standing behind her. He gestured for her to continue, and she cleared her throat weakly. “Orzammar is locked in a political struggle for their next king. The dwarves have closed it to the outside world, but will allow us in as Grey Wardens. There are two candidates for the throne, and the man whom we choose will be the one to take it. To do this, however, we’ll need to convince their nobility.”

“And who are we choosing between?” Alistair asked. His voice, his posture, his _everything_ was cold. This was what hatred felt like, Nyx realized. Not burning fire like rage demons, but true cold hate.

“Lord Harrowmont and Prince Bhelen. Harrowmont is kinder, but will only serve to appease those in power and allow Orzammar’s problems to continue. I know this because he took the throne before,” Nyx said. “Bhelen is...hungry for power, and willing to destroy anything in his path to have it. But he had worthy goals. He saw a future for the casteless—the poor. I’d like to...throw in my bid with him.”

“And Eamon?” Alistair said.

“He will be cured, but weak for a time. Until we have the support of the dwarves, he will delay it, but Arl Eamon will wish to call for a Landsmeet,” Nyx said. She was in awe that she was still able to speak with all the tension in the air.

Hera’s hands were balled in fists on her lap. Nyx wanted to calm her down, but Hera was right in what she’d said before. The price would have been Hera’s life, and for her sake, Nyx had to be strong.

“A Landsmeet?” Alistair said. “To try Loghain, I assume.”

“Yes, and to end the civil war he has started. Eamon will also…” Nyx swallowed. “He will put you forward as king.”

Just like before, this got the most visible reaction from Alistair. She’d remembered him not wishing to be made king, but this was different. Nyx hadn’t yet explained the circumstance under which he’d chosen it for himself. Would he hate her more to know she’d defended Loghain?

“You will as well, I take it?” Alistair said.

“Alistair…” Nyx began, but he was already starting to leave them.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he said.

Hera tensed even more, but Nyx was quick to put a hand on her shoulder. Nyx’s eyes begged Hera not to start a fight. Hera relented, but not without a scowl in Alistair’s direction, watching as he disappeared into his tent.

Perseus whined. Nyx knew she’d need to use her own tent again. Artemis had been using it before, and she didn’t want to kick the other woman out into the cold. Nyx decided then that she would choose to stand watch all night. If she was exhausted come morning, so be it.

♢♢♢♢♢

“You said you wanted to talk?” Cronus said. Morrigan had pulled him away with the quickest whisper. He had not known her to hate Leliana or Artemis, at least no more than she disliked most people, but at their approach she had wanted to leave. Besides that, Cronus hadn’t spoken to Morrigan as much as he usually did since the night she kicked him out.

Which meant long days filled with mostly silence, unless he wanted to attempt to speak with anyone else. That wasn’t really something that happened. Cronus had only wanted to speak to Nyx because she and Hera were the only ones who knew anything about this mysterious Changeling figure.

He was already a talented healer, and was now picking up the ancient abilities of the Arcane Warriors. With the power to bend time on his side, he would be unstoppable. But Nyx didn’t know anything more than that the ritual the Changeling used involved blood magic and lyrium. She would go into no further detail than that, at least. Cronus suspected she knew more than she said.

In any case, he was glad Morrigan wanted to talk, though he wasn’t certain why.

“All this talk has reminded me that I...intended on giving you something,” Morrigan said. “It is a gift.” She held out her palm, revealing what her fingers had been curled around only moments ago. “Now before you get any fool notions about this, let me explain.”

“It’s a ring,” Cronus said. There were a lot of foolish things one could assume from this kind of gift.

“Yes,” Morrigan said impatiently. “I am glad to see your eyesight is still working. This, however, is no ordinary ring. Flemeth once gave it to me as a girl, telling me that if I were ever captured by hunters, it would allow her to find me. As soon as I left her side, I disabled it. I did not wish for her to follow, and after your discoveries...well, it was wise of me to do so. Recently I have thought to give it new purpose. I have changed it so that _I_ will be able to find its wearer, instead.”

“That is...thoughtful of you,” Cronus said.

“It is not given out of sentimentality,” Morrigan said. “You are too important to risk.”

“More important than the Wardens?” Cronus asked.

“Nyx is both capable and has knowledge of the future we do not possess. Alistair will not come to harm so long as she is around. And if I am not mistaken, are you not still planning to join their order once they have the means?” Morrigan said. “In fact, I did speak with Nyx about this. There will be a Warden in Denerim by the name Riordan who will be able to perform your Joining. She always knew about this. You are one of our healers, and ‘twould be foolish to charge into battle without you or Wynne. The number of times you have been needed have proven this.”

“Would it work both ways?” Cronus said.

“Flemeth used to say ‘twas a link between us. I presume it can work so the wearer could find me, as well. I never tried it, but she would not lie about such a thing. You would be as much linked to me as I to you,” Morrigan said.

“That sounds very practical,” Cronus said, though he sounded doubtful. “You don’t plan on going anywhere, do you?”

“I would not desire for us to part company so soon,” Morrigan said. “And I am yet needed by our dear Warden, if she intends to keep Alistair alive. You are reading too much into it. If you do not want it, I could keep it and pretend we never discussed this.”

“No,” Cronus began, trying his hardest not to sound desperate. He gave a smirk, aiming for cocky. “Just good to know you care.”

“If you are mocking me then I truly will keep it.”

“I meant...thank you, Morrigan,” Cronus said.

“You are welcome,” Morrigan said. She was quite pleased with herself. “Do not take this as reason to get yourself lost, now. Just because I am able to find you does not mean I would enjoy needless searching.”

Cronus took the ring, letting her leave him behind to go to her tent for the night. She’d not invited him inside, which he took as wanting to be alone. The ring was a little snug around his finger, his hands being larger than Morrigan’s, but not so tight that it could cut off his circulation. He traced the smooth gold band, looking for runes of enchantment or signs of magic. Whatever power it held, Cronus could not sense it. Perhaps it was because he was still so close to Morrigan. If he were to wander away...but he wouldn’t.

Cronus no longer looked to the area surrounding him, wondering how far he’d get before someone took notice. He had no reason to leave, but Morrigan gave him reason to stay. Desperate, enchanted, and a willing slave, he would not part from her until she asked it of him.


	20. New Wounds Over Old Scars

They could spy the spinning blades of the windmill in the distance, and knew that Redcliffe was just ahead. Dusk was just beginning to settle over the sky, which made for good timing. Wynne was breathing more heavily than usual on their approach. Nyx had told her that she didn’t need to stay up by the front, but she’d wanted to speak with the Warden again.

Wynne had been like a bridge between Nyx and Alistair. He’d refused to speak with Nyx since that one night at camp, needing nothing more than to reach Arl Eamon and get him the cure. Once that was done, then they would leave for Orzammar. Alistair wasn’t ready to hear any more of what Nyx knew. Wynne had warned him against being too closed off, considering they were the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden and needed to work as a team. She didn’t push too hard, however. This was something that would require time to heal.

Yet, Nyx’s conversations with Wynne were enlightening. Nyx already knew about Wynne’s so-called “condition,” but would not tell the others unless she received permission. Nyx also told Wynne that under extreme duress, the spirit within her could lend a bit of its power, but Nyx advised against trying in most circumstances.

“The first time you used it it wore on you so much...it terrified me. I do not want you to risk yourself more than is necessary,” Nyx said.

“Thank you for your concern,” Wynne said. “I will not push myself, I promise you, I know my limits. But now that you have told me what you know of me personally, I would ask you another question. What was involved in this ritual your mage performed?”

“Blood magic, lyrium, and strange markings,” Nyx said. She was willing to tell Wynne more than she’d mentioned to Cronus. There was no risk of Wynne attempting to perform similar magic. Cronus, however, she couldn’t be certain. “And an object from each of us from our pasts. I don’t know the finer details of what the Changeling did, but I remember searing pain. To reform me he...broke my body and mended it back together in the shape he wanted. It was...excruciating.”

Wynne opened and closed her mouth, thinking of better words for what she wished to say. Nyx had already received plenty of lectures from the days before about the dangers of this ritual, of maleficarum and demons. Even if there was not meant to be a demon involved in the magic, anything that tore into the Veil—which Wynne presumed the Changeling had done—was not worth the risk. No matter the outcome, the costs could have been beyond measure.

Nyx knew this. If not of her own right, then surely she did after all that Wynne had chastised. Regardless of the risk, it had turned out for the better. If that pattern could continue, Wynne did not know. Nor did Nyx, which put both of them on edge to acknowledge. Nyx did know, at the very least, what larger dangers they would face.

“Why _did_ you tell Morrigan before anyone else?” Wynne asked. “I see that she has great power, but she also clearly possesses your trust in her. You must believe her to be worthy of such a thing.”

“She is,” Nyx said. “Morrigan isn’t what she seems, and I mean that in a good way. She is cold and calculating, but that doesn’t mean she is forever unfeeling. She understands dark magic and its purpose, and does not fear it as most would. As most _should_ , as they have no comprehension for its control. Besides all that, Morrigan is…” Nyx paused, uncertain of how much to reveal. “...she can help me keep Alistair from harm.”

“You single her out specifically for this, I notice. But you’ve yet to explain how she does this,” Wynne said.

“That is no accident,” Nyx said. “I’m sorry, Wynne. I know I’ve already lost your trust, but believe me when I say that her involvement is the only thing I cannot share. Not until the time comes.”

“I see,” Wynne said. “I cannot force you to tell me, if you are so unwilling, but may I offer another piece of advice?” Wynne waited for Nyx to nod, then continued, “Keep being honest with us. All of us. If you wish for those around you to trust in you fully, that will be the first step.”

“Thank you, Wynne. I promise you I am sharing all that I can,” Nyx said.

That conversation had been hours ago, however, and now they stood outside Redcliffe. Wynne would be unable to speak for a bit, until she’d rested. Nyx noticed the older woman slowing, and stopped the group. She took the waterskin from her belt and held it out to Wynne, who took it with a whisper of thanks. It was hard to tell if the shortness of her breath and the shooting pains in her legs were because of age or because she was only being kept from death by a spirit of the Fade. Though Wynne supposed it wasn’t “of the Fade” any longer.

“Don’t let me slow you down. Keep going. I just need to ease my pace for now,” Wynne said, wiping a drop from her chin as she finished drinking. She offered the waterskin back to Nyx, who was hesitating to take it.

“We’ve time, yet. We can stop until—”

“No, Nyx. Arl Eamon needs his cure. I will not see that delayed any longer just because an old woman overestimated her strengths again,” Wynne insisted.

Nyx gave a gentle nod and a smile, and put the skin back on her waist. Despite what Wynne said, Nyx still looked for Leliana and gestured for her to stay with Wynne. Leliana casually let herself fall back, keeping pace with the older woman. Wynne had not missed Nyx’s gesturing, but did not argue. The girl was worried, and no one could fault her for that.

There was a kindness Wynne still saw in Nyx’s heart that made the truth so hard to accept. Kind people could do awful deeds, but it made it no easier to come to terms with. What drove Nyx to do what she’d done—the grief and loneliness—had to be monumental to push her that far. Wynne still didn’t know the whole story, and she had to acknowledge this as she fell in step with Leliana and Artemis (who seemed ever attached since they left Haven).

What Wynne did know, however, was that Nyx was trying to make up for what she acknowledged was the worst thing she had ever done. Whether the Maker would see the good intentions behind the deeds, Wynne could never guess, but she could see them for herself. In the moment where Danyla came rushing back to her husband in the Dalish camp, embracing him in tears. In the moment that Wynne first saw Artemis, bone thin and quiet, and heard her retell what Nyx had done in the market to save her. In the moment in the Gauntlet, where Nyx faced her own past and cried as she said she “hadn’t done enough.”

Nyx was likely to only consider it “enough” when the Archdemon lie dead and Alistair remained breathing and in good health. For her to be so singularly focused, Wynne wondered if the girl had any self-worth of her own to hold onto. Wynne had not forgotten the other things said during the Gauntlet, words spoken that Nyx had not brought up since. This was something Nyx would have to approach when she was ready, and no sooner.

Be it fate or sheer dumb luck, however, it did seem like things were turning out for the better. The mages, however few of them, had not died by templar hands. The Dalish lived and those once werewolves were free of the curse. Hera, the factor that perplexed most of them, was happy. She cracked jokes and made crude remarks. For the trauma that linked them, Hera had come out the better of the two. It was a result Wynne would not have predicted.

♢♢♢♢♢

All was as Nyx foretold. Arl Eamon stood, awake but still in bad health after so long a time spent bedridden and unconscious. It was odd to remember that the demon that had caused such destruction had also been the thing to keep him alive in such a state for so long. Those around the Arl wanted to hear every word of their stories from seeking the Urn of Sacred Ashes, but Eamon had silenced these voices, needing to speak about more urgent matters.

Just awake and already getting back to his duties. That was the kind of man who had raised Alistair. Eamon spoke of the Landsmeet, of defeating Loghain in a non-violent way to see the matter resolved not only in peace, but with swiftness. He spoke of putting Alistair on the throne, which saw the resistance Nyx knew to expect, and then some. With preparation, Alistair knew exactly what arguments he would make. Nyx had to wonder if his reluctance to become king had morphed into pure hate because Alistair knew it was what Nyx wanted.

Before the suggestion had come at a shock to both of them, not because she didn’t know his origins, but because she would not have thought that a proper solution. Things like these reminded Nyx of the truth of things. She had wanted to keep him even before the Archdemon took him, no matter how selfish the thought. Nyx felt sickened by herself as she remembered this. How long had she had the capability to put him above all other things?

“What do you think, Warden? We can go forward with or without you, but I’d prefer to have your support in this matter. You are the one who rescued my people, my family, and myself. You saw Loghain’s treachery with your own eyes. I’d be interested to hear your opinion on this matter,” Arl Eamon said.

When Nyx was a Dalish elf, the request had seemed far stranger. A shemlen asking the opinion of someone he probably spat on most days? But now she knew Eamon, and realized her position. She was the person they looked to as leader. Her companions still trusted her enough to follow.

Yet, Nyx had trouble just speaking his name. “A-Alistair is biddable, certainly. Regardless of the outcome, we will need to take care of Loghain and gain the support of the other nobles,” Nyx said. Other, because she could include herself in that category. She needed to continue acknowledging that. “We’ve still the treaty with the dwarves of Orzammar. When that is secured, we can return to Redcliffe and turn to Denerim.” A neutral enough stance that couldn’t get her in anymore trouble than she’d already gotten into.

“Of course,” Arl Eamon said. “We have prepared beds and a hot meal for the night. Part of my thanks for all you have done for me and my family. Do make yourselves comfortable. We can provide some extra supplies in the morning, including arms and armor for those of you that require such a thing.” His eyes had moved to Leliana, whose armor was still damaged from the fire that struck her.

“Thank you,” Nyx said. She drew him aside a moment later and asked for her meal to be sent to her room. All the action proved too much, and she couldn’t handle any more of Alistair’s silence with her. Nyx needed to be alone in the quiet, getting sleep in a proper bed with a pillow stuffed with soft down feathers. As she stepped aside, one of the servants even offered to draw her a bath in her room. Nyx sighed at the thought of actual hot water cleaning the dirt from her skin, instead of murky pond water that could make her _less_ dirty, at best.

The castle treatment served everyone well, in fact. The mabari were taken outside for their scrubbing. Proper trainers were in attendance on the grounds and were able to get their coats looking nice and glossy. Scooby and Perseus hated the bath, but loved the extra affection that came with being clean. Even Wynne couldn’t avoid giving in to rubbing their bellies.

Perseus did, however, go seeking Nyx soon after he was free of bathtime. If a dog could roll its eyes, he nearly did when he saw that Nyx was up to her ears in frothy bubbles. He wanted to play and she was doing the same thing he had dreaded! Nyx was at least gracious enough to free one arm from the water to play fetch in the small room. She had to stifle a bit of laughter as he scrambled around, making a mess and chasing the ball she’d thrown. The servants would have a fit when they saw it later.

When Perseus had tired himself out, he laid at the foot of the tub until Nyx decided she was too pruney to remain in the now lukewarm water any longer. She toweled off, found the soft clothing laid out for her, and dressed. A plate of food awaited just outside her door, which she took in quickly while there was still no one around. Nyx was finding peace in the solitude, but it couldn’t last forever.

Her thoughts swam around in her head, trying to prepare and figure out what she needed to do. Nyx needed to go to Orzammar, support Bhelen, find Oghren, destroy the Anvil of the Void...but then what? If Alistair still hated her, he would never take the throne, even if she insisted that Anora was not good enough to rule alone and see Ferelden bettered. Then one thing crossed her mind, and a sinking feeling followed.

Alistair could _marry_ Anora. Get the best of both worlds. Anora’s experience with Alistair’s gentler heart and eye for those less fortunate. Nyx had wanted it to be her by his side forever, but there was the undeniable truth that he might never forgive her. Yet, he might see the importance of standing with Anora, uniting both sides in a more literal manner. Alistair could do it if he saw that it was for the good of Ferelden.

Perseus whined as she started to cry. She’d not allowed herself many tears, not when the others were still so close, not while they could see her weaknesses, but now it was just her and Percy in the quiet. He howled in sympathy. Nyx buried her face in his fur, and gave a sad laugh at how glad she was he didn’t smell quite as much as he usually did.

Nyx hadn’t been able to sleep much at all the past few days. The feeling of empty space beside her reminded her all too much of those nights after the Blight. She held Perseus tight, but it was never the same. It was like the ghosts had returned, screaming in her ears and clawing at her back. Above all, Nyx hated that all she could think of for comfort was being with Alistair. Hearing Alistair’s voice, feeling his fingers, calloused and rough on her skin, and taking in his warmth. She might not have been alone after Haven, but she may as well have been for the emptiness in her chest.

♢♢♢♢♢

Alistair desperately needed sleep. He was glad to have a proper bed to lie in, even if it was just for one night. Anything was better than the bedroll that still smelled like Nyx. There were times he woke up and looked for her, like she should have been there. Alistair regretted getting used to having her nearby. Now Nyx haunted his mind and his sleep.

Alistair was relieved when she left for her room early. He did not miss the glare of blame coming from Hera, but he did his best to ignore it. Why she, of all people, cared about Nyx’s well-being still eluded him. Hera should’ve hated Nyx as much as he did.

That was a lie, though. Alistair was furious, betrayed, and heartbroken, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate her. Not that he wasn’t trying his best. It at least looked that way to the others, which was enough of a success for the time being. When he looked at her and started to feel pity, Alistair reminded himself that she’d not warned him about Loghain. For that and her dark ritual, she was no better than that murderer.

Even without the present reminders of her, she wasn’t leaving his mind. Alistair moved to close the door behind him—maybe he’d close out his present reality, as well. He’d imagine himself far away from here, happy and free. A hand stopped the door from shutting, grabbing his attention.

“No,” Alistair said quickly. “Not you, not now, just...no.”

“I’m afraid I must insist, Alistair,” Morrigan said, forcing the door open wider. “I won’t stay long, if that eases your mind.”

“It doesn’t, actually,” Alistair said. Morrigan smiled. Of course that pleased her. Alistair should have said he would be _delighted_ to entertain her company, and wouldn’t she like a spot of tea while they were at it? Perhaps he could braid her hair.

“I wanted to know what you intend to do,” Morrigan said.

“Sleep and dream that I’m riding on a griffon to meet with the Empress of Orlais and eat a ton of cake until I’m three times my size,” Alistair said. “Or something like that, at least.”

“And when you awake, do you plan on continuing to childishly ignore Nyx and treat her so coldly?” Morrigan said.

Alistair couldn’t stop his hands from forming fists at his sides, nor his brow from tensing. He never could hide his emotions. He suspected Morrigan enjoyed preying upon him because of that, among other things.

“What about this is childish, exactly? She doesn’t deserve forgiveness, not with what she’s done. What she’s hidden from me. And I…”

“You loved her,” Morrigan said. “Do not look so surprised, ‘twas no secret. I don’t suspect you’d be half as upset by the news if you did not feel so strongly towards her. But here is something I fear you have not realized, and probably never will on your own: she is not your enemy.”

Alistair remained taut, but revealed a curiosity in the slight shifting movements of his face. Morrigan was again pleased at how she could toy with him. So predictable, so simple. What did Nyx see in him?

“What she has done, she has done for _you_. You can say you did not want it and would rather she have left your body for the worms, but the fact remains you live and breathe because Nyx returned to save you,” Morrigan said.

“And the whole thing about taking another person’s life to do it? Even if Hera is still alive,” Alistair said. “Can you justify that?”

“I admit the idea was not well thought out, but foolish actions done out of _love_ rarely are,” Morrigan said, looking like she might retch when she said this. “I cannot claim to understand your rage, nor do I wish to argue justifications, as you say. I have come to you tonight to say one thing.” Morrigan breathed, rolling her eyes at herself for even caring enough to try. “You do not have to love her. You do not even have to like her, if you are so determined to avoid it, but at least find a way to forgive her. Otherwise, she may break in two.

“Nyx would like to believe she hides her weaknesses well, and perhaps to you she does, but what I have seen is a woman becoming more fragile by the hour. We need her to remain strong against the darkspawn, and like it or not, Nyx needs you to do that,” Morrigan said. “How she even managed to defeat the Archdemon once with such emotional misgivings is beyond me.”

Alistair ground his teeth. He’d been prepared for the argument with Arl Eamon earlier. He knew what he wanted to say and what point he would make about not being good enough or worthy of the throne. This, however, was stumping Alistair. He could say a lot of things, only half of which he would believe, and only a quarter of which Morrigan would.

“I don’t even know that there isn’t more she’s lying about. She could have just done this wanting to be queen,” Alistair said. Only half.

“If that was what she’d intended, would she have left Hera alive? Told me about these things? Confessed to you in tears?” Morrigan said.

Obviously not, but Alistair did not want to relent. Letting Morrigan be right was his least favorite thing. “I can’t trust her again,” he said. A simple enough admission, though Alistair wondered if the half-truth rule still stood.

“Then may I propose a solution?” Morrigan said.

“I know you’re going to say it whether I want you to or not, so go right ahead,” Alistair said.

“Talk to her. Ask her your questions, find out what you want to know. You are stuck because you fear you do not know who she is anymore, but the real Nyx stands in front of you still. Your stubborn and foolish silence does you no favors,” Morrigan said. Then she waved a hand, turning to leave. “But I am done with this. I have said what I needed.”

Alistair wanted to say something to show he still had the upper hand in this somehow. Something that would make it so Morrigan wasn’t walking away with another win. “I’m not a fool!” Alistair said, louder than intended. _Yeah,_ that _showed her,_ Alistair thought, internally kicking himself for the outburst.

Morrigan snorted. “If you need to deny it…” she said. He heard her muted laughter through the door after he slammed it shut.

_Voids take that woman._

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx ignored the weariness of her legs. She ignored the heaviness of her eyelids as well, and in that she had to ignore the fact that they were still itchy and red from the night before. Arl Eamon had them fed again before they left, but they were back on the road before they knew it. They would wander the road, heading north for days until reaching Orzammar.

With new gear, courtesy of Redcliffe Castle’s hospitality, they would be quite the force. It was important that they were ready, considering that the Deep Roads awaited. She’d understood the Deep Roads in concept when she first entered. Now she knew them with unnerving intimacy. They’d spent days underground, hunting Branka with every shred left behind. Nyx swore she’d never repeat that. She had already gone back once, so far.

Perseus trotted at her side. He appeared to have gotten a fair amount of rest. Nyx found herself jealous of a mabari. She was making a habit out of this again. It wasn’t like she could turn to Zevran for comfort as she had before. Something told her Hera wouldn’t appreciate it. Not that Nyx even wanted that, but she wanted _something._ Something other than lying awake and trying not to hate herself.

Her body betrayed her and released a yawn. Perseus looked up at her. Nyx shook her head. “Don’t worry, Percy,” she said, patting him gently. With her gauntlets on, she was more conscious of how hard her touch was. “I’ve done this before.”

“What have you done before?” Alistair said.

Nyx nearly tripped in her surprise. Her senses were dulling. This was the second time Alistair had caught her off guard. If her mind wandered like this in the Deep Roads, the darkspawn would drag her away. Nyx just hoped that it was impossible for a Grey Warden to become a Broodmother.

“I…” she started to say. “I have gone without sleep, in the past.”

“Oh,” Alistair said.

That was all that was said before silence fell over them. Alistair kept in step with her and Perseus, up at the front of the group, but still didn’t try to strike up any further conversation. Nyx was trying to think of what she could say, in case he was looking for her to come up with something. She could apologize, but a thousand times of saying “I’m sorry” couldn’t undo any of the things she’d done. Nyx shuffled along while Perseus looked between the two of them and snorted.

Frustrated, Perseus ran ahead. Nyx reached out to him, almost starting to chase after her dog, but he returned only moments later with a stick. She gave the tiniest sigh, but smiled at him and took the stick from his mouth.

“Alright, boy. Fetch!” Nyx said, and threw the stick far ahead. Perseus ran and retrieved it again. It was odd to do this while walking, but it was a fine distraction. She threw it two more times before Perseus tried to give it to Alistair instead.

“Oh, no, I shouldn’t,” Alistair said. “I’ve got a terrible throwing arm, trust me.”

“Sorry, but...he won’t leave you be until you try,” Nyx said, her voice small.

Perseus walked alongside Alistair, wagging his little tail. Alistair gave in to the dog’s request, and tossed the stick. He’d lied about having a bad arm, by the looks of it. Perseus ran back, handing it to Nyx again this time. For a few minutes, he alternated with seemingly no purpose, until he was properly worn out. Nyx shook her head, slowing their progression to a stop.

It was a good a time as any for a break, she supposed. After the large breakfast, someone would need to tinkle, and others might want to stretch or sit to ease any aches from travelling on foot. Nyx wished she’d asked for a horse or two. Even if not all of them could ride, from lack of knowing or from there not being enough horses for the lot of them, at least it could give some of them a break from all the standing, giving them different pains in exchange.

Nyx sat on the side of the road with Perseus, as he—spoiled boy that he was—demanded belly rubs. Nyx removed one of her armored gloves, spoiling him some more. Alistair was still at her side. It was odd, and with the way he’d still been quiet, she wasn’t sure she liked it.

“So you told me about Orzammar,” Alistair began, “but what happens after that?”

“The Landsmeet, just as Eamon wants,” Nyx said.

“Nothing in between?” Alistair asked.

“Well...Anora will be held captive,” Nyx said. Alistair sat up a bit straighter at that. “It’s Howe. He will have her under lock and key, supposedly to keep her from speaking out against her father.”

“Why would she do that? Of all people to remain loyal to him, his own daughter should be first,” Alistair said.

“Anora may have loyalty to him as her father, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see his madness for what it is. I’m still not certain it wasn’t made to be a trap for us, since afterwards Ser Cauthrien will show up all too conveniently to arrest any Wardens that were involved in ‘kidnapping’ the queen.”

“Did she succeed?”

“Yes,” Nyx said. “We got locked up in Fort Drakon. Myself and…” _The other you._ “It was Leliana and Morrigan who came to our rescue. Disguised themselves as Chantry sisters.”

Alistair actually laughed at that. “Morrigan in Chantry robes? Now that is something I’d pay to see.” Then he glanced down at her, remembering the situation again, and cleared his throat. “After that?”

“We’ll be sent to deal with a problem in the Alienage,” Nyx said. She gave a shudder, remembering the truth of the operation there. “Slavers.”

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair said in horror. “That seems worth mentioning sooner.”

Nyx’s shoulders rose, her body rigid in anticipation for his anger. It would be deserved, she told herself again, for what was probably the thousandth time. She’d thought about the Alienage, when speaking with Artemis. She’d told herself they wouldn’t be able to get in with the guards. Maybe that was true, and it wasn’t worth the effort, but Nyx hadn’t even suggested they try. Either by sneaking or fighting their way inside, they could have done something.

At best, the slavers from Tevinter were not there yet, and had taken no one. That was a great deal to hope for. Nyx couldn’t remember how long they had been there by the time she arrived to help, but the sheer potential that elven lives had been lost weighed heavy on her shoulders.

“Slavery is illegal in Ferelden. How could they even get away with such a thing?” Alistair said.

“Loghain,” Nyx said.

Alistair scowled. “That bastard,” he growled. “We’ll make him pay for all he’s done.”

Nyx nodded. She’d sworn herself to that much. She would not give Loghain a chance again. For Alistair, and for herself, Loghain needed to die. It was another death she knew was necessary, like Zathrian. Nyx felt disgusted by that idea even still. She looked at Hera, the death Nyx would have justified to herself. Murder was murder, even if the hand wielding the blade did so with a just cause in mind.

“We will,” Nyx said with certainty.

“...we will?” Alistair said, without. “Did you…?”

“No,” Nyx said. She begged silently that he wouldn’t ask any further.

“You let me do it,” Alistair guessed.

Nyx bit her lip and nodded.

Alistair paused for a long moment, then said, “How did I die?”

Nyx felt the tears flood her eyes. The image of his face, the words softly spoken before he ran from her side, sword in hand, and the arrow that missed. All of it was still so vivid, could still cut into her gut and leave fresh wounds to replace the scars she thought were healed. Perseus whined, forcing his head onto her lap.

“Y-you were...pro...protecting me,” Nyx said. She was forcing herself to continue. He deserved to know. _He deserved to know._ “You said...you said that…” Nyx shut her eyes tight, wishing the whole world away. “You told me I needed to live. Said I was more important than you.” Her face twisted as she released a sob. “You were wrong.”

Alistair opened and closed his mouth at least twice. What does one say to that? Alistair thought of how he would have felt a few days ago—just a few measly days—when he didn’t know the truth. When he could love her with all his heart and feel no shame for it. Back then, if he saw her crying like this, Alistair would have reached out and embraced her without a moment of hesitation. Now he just balked.

“Thank you for telling me,” Alistair said. “I’m sorry for...making you think about that.”

He stood, walking away to give her space. He heard Perseus’ whines turn to soft howling before Nyx took the dog in her arms and held him. Alistair stole a look back at her as he went. It took mere moments for Hera to start charging at him with fury in her eyes.

“What the fuck did you do?” Hera demanded.

“Nothing!” Alistair said, throwing his hands up. “We just talked, I swear!”

“Just. Talked?” Hera said, raising a single brow high on her head. She smiled sarcastically over thinly-veiled anger. “Then what did you say?”

Alistair had faced all manner of darkspawn and never once had he wanted to run this bad. Forget an army, they could just send Hera into battle and she’d fell a thousand darkspawn on her own.

“I just asked her about some things,” Alistair said. “What we need to be prepared for. Then…”

“Then?” Hera said through her teeth.

“I really don’t see that it’s your business,” Alistair said. Telling Hera that he’d asked about his own death sounded too morbid, and he couldn’t come up with a decent enough lie in time. That was supposed to be their private conversation, anyhow.

“It is if you did something to her,” Hera said. Zevran was grabbing her arm now, gently as he could.

“Now, now, dear, I don’t believe our Alistair would have intentionally hurt Nyx’s feelings now, hmm?” Zevran said. “Despite how he feels now, he still cares for the Warden.”

“I…” Alistair started, a denial hovering on his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually say it. It wasn’t about it being true or false, because he still didn’t know where he landed on that matter. Hera watching him so intently and Zevran standing up in his defense made a bizarre series of days even stranger.

Alistair couldn’t take any more of it. If he was going to tell anyone how he felt about Nyx, he’d first need to figure it out for himself. After that, it would be Nyx herself who was first to know.

“Fine,” Hera said, relaxing her arms and accepting Zevran’s hold on her. She looked to him, her face softening. “But only because he hesitated,” she told Zev, who grinned in unspoken agreement.

Hera and Zevran went to make sure their leader was alright before they gathered everyone to move along. The day was young yet, and Orzammar waited ahead. Nyx had settled quicker than she’d expected to, occupying her mind with something as she had been doing for ages. If she let herself fall into spiraling thoughts of guilt, Nyx would never get anything done. Avoiding problems for other problems worked well enough.

She was currently puzzling over how to handle the Alienage without simply turning face and going to Denerim herself. She thought of sending a small group ahead, to sneak in and stop the whole mess before it could really start. Yet, Nyx knew she needed all of her allies with her in the Deep Roads. It was too treacherous a place to venture into without all the power she could gather.

Nyx settled for a missive, passed off to the next merchant that they passed. She asked that they go to Redcliffe and see that the letter reached Arl Eamon. Nyx wasn’t sure she ought to mention they were Grey Wardens. There were those who supported her cause, but there were also those who believed in Loghain’s lies. She opted instead to leave a small drawing on the outside, doing the best she could to copy the Warden’s sigil of a griffon. It...looked terrible, if she was honest with herself, but hopefully it would mean something to the right person so they would hand it off to Eamon.

Nyx gave a bitter prayer to the Maker that he would reach into the hearts of the shemlen, showing them that elven lives were just as important as humans. Perhaps it would be fruitless, but she would hate herself forever for not trying. Damn Loghain. Damn him for tearing apart the country and the people of the very land he’d fought to save while a Blight clawed at their ankles. That Nyx had ever considered his life worth sparing left a bitter taste in her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, Nyx absolutely ugly cries. No pretty Hollywood single tears here.


	21. Odd Jobs

With her anxious thoughts of the Alienage haunting her, Nyx found it hard to resist fighting Loghain’s fool men. Determined to be the bigger person, she managed to chase them off with words alone. Though, not without a pointed warning.

“Tell Loghain I know exactly what he’s done. Tell him I know about the elves, and I do not intend to allow him to hurt anyone else, so long as I live,” Nyx said. The fury in her voice was unmistakable, her face straining as she spoke. After spending most of the past few days with sadness or a hollowed out feeling of emptiness, to be filled with rage was a welcome change of pace.

Loghain’s men ran with their tails between their legs, and the dwarf at the door to Orzammar looked impressed. “You have my thanks, Warden. You are free to enter Orzammar, though I don’t know what help you will find,” he said.

Nyx and her companions entered the large stone doors, the atmosphere shifting as soon as they stepped through. It was dim in this hallway, but Nyx knew to anticipate the heat and brightness of the lava running beneath the city. Statues of the Paragons lined both sides of the entrance hall, carved in the traditional style of the dwarves. There were rarely, if ever, any curves in Dwarven structures. It was about straight lines and sharp angles. It appropriately reflected the rigidity of their culture.

Apparently, their timing was on cue, walking into the city just in time to watch Bhelen’s axe sink into a man’s chest. Nyx had a hard time sharing the horror of the others, having expected this kind of thing from the prince. Still, it crossed her mind that if they’d arrived just a few moments sooner…

“ _That’s_ Prince Bhelen?” Alistair said, aghast.

“I realize he’s brutal, but he’s better for—” Nyx wasn’t given the chance to finish.

“He’s mad,” Artemis said. “And I don’t mean angry, though there is that.”

“I dunno, he’s got a spark,” Hera said, sarcasm evident. “A spark that would light this place on fire if it weren’t made entirely out of stone.”

“Harrowmont does seem the more sensible bid,” Wynne said. “You don’t even know for certain that Bhelen could implement the changes you say he believes in.”

“An attempt to change has to be better than shutting out the whole world!” Nyx said.

Alistair’s jaw tightened. That was what she believed in: change, no matter the consequence. It was hard not to draw the parallel with her ritual. He had been warned about Bhelen’s violent tendencies, but watching him murder a man in cold blood left an impression that wasn’t likely to go away with a few pretty speeches about the hope of a different Orzammar.

Nyx refused to lend support to Harrowmont, however. Not when he would do nothing for the good of the dwarves. She had enough support to do as she wished, but not without a lingering sense of unease. Nyx blamed none of them for it. It was why she’d backed Harrowmont, but she knew better now. Where was Oghren when she needed him? Probably at the tavern.

“We’ve a lot to get done here. I think it would be best if we split off, take on smaller tasks separately,” Nyx said.

“Who would you like with you, Warden?” Sten asked.

Nyx did a bad job hiding her surprise when he spoke. It was rare to hear him voice something without first being asked. “I...hadn’t thought that far yet.”

“We’ll go with you,” Artemis volunteered, taking Leliana’s hand. “Sten can come, too.” The Qunari grunted, and Nyx didn’t know if it was approval or annoyance, but he walked to Nyx’s side with the girls anyway.

Hera stepped forward to take charge of the second group. “Zevran, Alistair, Wynne, you’re with me,” she said.

“I do so love a powerful woman in charge,” Zevran purred. The other two just seemed confused by her selection, but it was incredibly difficult to argue with Hera when she’d decided something. And unadvisable, at that.

Which left Morrigan, Cronus, and Shale. Shale, who had drawn every single dwarves’ attention in their astonishment. It might not have been unusual to find a golem in Orzammar hundreds of years ago, but now? Shale didn’t really appreciate all the staring, either, groaning as he went.

“Alright then,” Nyx said. She eyed Hera nervously. If Hera intended on saying anything to Alistair or treating him unkindly, she didn’t show it, but Nyx found the choice suspect at best. Though Nyx was still puzzled by her own group, so perhaps this was not the time to wonder about intentions. Having Alistair with Hera was at least better than him being with Morrigan all day.

“Hera, take care of any tasks those in the Diamond Quarter might need done,” Nyx said, pointing them in the right direction. Then she pointed the opposite way. “Morrigan, you guys should see what needs doing in Dust Town. The rest of us will remain in the market areas for now. Try not to...involve yourselves in the politics just yet. I want to be sure before we throw our support to either of them.”

Nyx knew she’d back Bhelen, but knew that saying this would reassure anyone still on the fence. She waited for a moment, watching the others leave to their assigned tasks. Nyx knew the first job she would put her own group on.

“I hope you’re prepared to go nug hunting, because that’s what we’re about to do,” Nyx said.

“You mean those little rabbit...rat...things?” Leliana said. “Oh, but those are so cute!”

“Nyx has Perseus,” Artemis said. The mabari barked at the mention. “Maybe you should have a nug all your own.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. It might be hard to keep him, considering,” Leliana said, but there was still a hopeful glimmer in her eye. Artemis smiled, absolutely determined to get the cutest nug she could find for Leliana.

The nug wrangler they were meant to be helping first was floored when they approached with a bunch of the little guys. He paid handsomely for each one, though Artemis looked for the cutest of the bunch to keep. Leliana named him Schmooples. Perseus made a questioning noise at the name choice, then looked to Nyx like he was thanking her for giving him a more respectable name.

“What can I say, Percy. You’re a noble mabari, not just any common hound. You need to have a commanding air around you,” Nyx said. Perseus puffed up in pride, giving a bold woof to show his approval.

“What about Scooby?” Artemis asked. “Isn’t that a bit of a silly name?”

“I wouldn’t mention that to Hera,” Nyx said. “We should bring Schmooples to camp. He’ll be safer there and we won’t have to carry him all over the place.”

Leliana agreed. Sten followed the trio, towering over all of them and keeping to the back, like their silent guard. One look at the weapons strapped to the backs of the three women, however, and no one was willing to mess with them. Nyx was curious if anyone wondered how she lifted a sword about the same size as those that Sten wielded. Stargazer was still her pride and joy.

Yet, as they exited the city for the brief distraction, Sten made a growling noise that was different from those he usually made. Nyx had no idea what was wrong. She didn’t see any injuries on his body, nor had he voiced any concerns with their current goals. Nyx thought for sure he would see this as a dalliance, considering all that needed doing, and prepared an apology of sorts in her head.

“I would like to speak with you about something,” Sten said, stiff as a board. The way he shifted on his feet was like there was an itch he had that he just couldn’t scratch.

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” Nyx asked.

“Your allies have provided us with fine armor and sturdy blades, but this sword is...wrong,” Sten said. “I have seen your attachment to Stargazer, as you call it, and believe you may now understand.”

“Do you have a sword of your own, somewhere?” Nyx said.

“Yes, but I do not know where,” Sten said. “I came to your lands with seven of the Beresaad—my brothers—to seek answers about the Blight. We made our way across the Fereldan countryside without incident, seeing nothing of the threat we were sent to observe. Until the night we camped by Lake Calenhad.” His shoulders rose as his head fell. “They came from everywhere: the earth beneath our feet, the air above us, our own shadows harbored the darkspawn. I saw the last of the creatures cut down, too late. I fell.”

“You said you were eight? Did any of the other Qunari survive the attack?” Nyx asked.

“I am told no one else survived,” Sten said. If he felt sadness for this loss, he hid it well, rolling his shoulders back and relaxing his posture once more. Nyx did not know the specifics of his culture or training, but could at least relate to this. A warrior had to be resolute, not allowing emotions to overcome decisions in battle. Sten carried that attitude with him always.

“I don’t know how long I lay on the battlefield among the dead,” Sten continued, “nor do I know how the farmers found me. I only know that when I woke, I was no longer among my brothers and my sword was gone from my hand. I searched for it. When that failed, I asked my rescuers what had become of it. They claimed not to know, and I killed them...with my bare hands.” For this he showed his shame.

“I knew they didn’t have the blade. They had no reason to lie to me. I panicked. Unthinking, I struck them down,” Sten said.

“This could not have been an ordinary blade, for such a reaction,” Nyx said. “You never told me this is why you killed those people.”

“It would be simple to say that you did not ask, but in truth I would not have told you if you had,” Sten said. “But you are correct. That sword was made for my hand alone. I have carried it from the day I was set into the Beresaad. I was to die wielding it for my people. Even if I could cross Ferelden and Tevinter unarmed and alone to bring my report to the Arishok, I would be slain on sight by the antaam. They would know me as soulless, a deserter. No soldier would cast aside his blade while he drew breath.”

“We went to Lake Calenhad, for the mages,” Nyx said, remembering that he did not fight for the Circle with them. “Did you seek it while we were there?”

“I did,” Sten said. “All I learned was that a scavenger by the name Faryn had taken it. The man who told me this also mentioned he would have gone to Orzammar to sell his wares. I was unaware that we would have come here, and did not think to ask, but now…”

“You want to look for Faryn,” Nyx finished for him. Sten grunted, which she took to mean yes. “If he were anywhere, with the city closed, it would be out here. We should ask around,” she said.

It was not long before they found him. Apparently the blabbermouth had been going on about finding giants and their treasures for weeks. The other merchants left the implication that they would not mind to see that he wound up dead in a ditch somewhere. They pointed him out, and it wasn’t too hard to coax the information out of him.

“Sten, tear his arms off,” Nyx said, crossing her arms when Feryn chose to be stubborn.

“Woah, woah now!” Feryn said, backing up. “That’s a bit unnecessary now, ‘innit? Now that you mention it, I think I remember!”

“Convenient,” Sten said.

“Yes, a dwarf by the name Dwyn. I believe he said he had a house in Redcliffe,” Feryn said.

“I know him,” Nyx said. She turned to Sten. “He helped us in the fight against the undead.”

“He could have had it all along,” Sten growled. It was at least good to know that finding him would be easy.

“We’ll be going back to meet Arl Eamon after we’ve secured the agreement with the dwarves here,” Nyx said. “When we go, I will be sure we find Dwyn and get back your sword. On my honor.”

Sten eyed her for a moment, but nodded. It would have to do. So long as they were needed here, he would not leave unless Nyx commanded it. She was his savior first, his commander second. Whatever came after that was petty fondness. A thing Sten did not need to express.

♢♢♢♢♢

“Great, I need to find her and now she’s gone wandering off,” Hera said, kicking a stone along their path as they walked the marketplace. “Nyx was supposed to stay here, and now that I need to ask her what she might know about some stolen book, she’s gone.”

She was glaring at Alistair and Wynne, who were speaking with a distraught woman about her missing son. No doubt Nyx knew about that, too, and the dwarven Chantry brother that wanted their help. In fear of what could happen if they made the wrong choice, they just made promises to “see what they could do.” For all they knew, Nyx could return with news about how last time she’d returned a lost puppy that doomed them all. What use was someone who had knowledge of the future if she wasn’t around to answer their questions?

“Well, that’s one more thing for us to look for in the Deep Roads,” Alistair said, walking back. “Poor woman.”

“Let’s at least go back to the Shaperate for now to ask about Brother Burkel’s request,” Wynne said. “We can mention Ruck to Nyx when she returns.” She paused, then added in a mutter, “Wherever it is she’s gotten to.”

Alistair still reacted any time someone said Nyx’s name. Hera noticed how he avoided saying it himself. She agreed with Morrigan on a few things, and one of those was that Alistair was being a stubborn child. He’d at least stopped giving Nyx the silent treatment. Of course, that had ended in Nyx crying again. Nyx would never say it was his fault that she’d cried, but Hera would blame Alistair regardless.

Not that Hera understood _why_ the difficulty he had with this situation pissed her off so much. If she thought about it too long, it would cross her mind that maybe it was linked to her own guilt. Alistair’s refusal to forgive Nyx made it seem like Hera had forgiven too easily, too soon. She could have held onto her anger longer, been spiteful and full of hate. If she held on long enough, maybe she would have needed their deal that allowed Hera to kill Nyx after the Blight. That made Hera feel sick to think about, now.

But why get introspective when she could project her feelings on Alistair? Zevran had urged her numerous times to let it go and let the man deal with it in his own time. Hera could have done that, but she didn’t.

“I’m still not sure about supporting Bhelen,” Alistair said as they stepped back into the Diamond Quarter.

They could all see the stark differences between this place and the rest of Orzammar, and that was even without having seen Dust Town for themselves. While they were out, the group had also learned a lot more about dwarves and their caste system. Hera knew exactly why they held onto it so tight. It wasn’t about tradition or the Ancestors, not really. At the heart of it was the same reason humans didn’t want to help the elves. Nobles could keep their power and wealth without having to offer and share a piece with anyone “unseemly.” The dwarves liked to think themselves so different, but Hera saw it for what it was.

“I actually think I’m coming around to the idea,” Hera said. “Bhelen might see these streets bleed red, but at least the blood spilled would be equal in its worth. What’s a little violence in the name of freedoms? Even Andraste had Exalted Marches.”

“That...that’s different,” Alistair insisted. “Do we really know that Harrowmont is so bad? Maybe we could talk him into changing his ways.”

“An idealistic notion at best,” Hera said. “You just don’t want to agree with Nyx.”

“What?” Alistair said, his face contorting in a circus of varied emotions. “That is not… That has nothing to do with this.”

“Come off it, Alistair. You know we’re going to follow her lead in the end. Why be cruel and make her second guess something you know she’s right about?” Hera said.

“I really, _really_ don’t get you,” Alistair said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean you should hate her, right? But out of all of us you’re the one who’s been on my case this whole time!”

Wynne and Zevran gave the two a wide berth, nodding and smiling politely to the dwarves that stared as they passed. If Nyx were there, Alistair and Hera might stop for her sake. Without her, who knew how long those two could carry on for?

There was already sweat on Hera’s brow from the heat of the lava, but her body warmed in rage now, as well. “I don’t expect you to understand,” Hera said.

“Just try it,” Alistair said. “Explain it to me, since I’m apparently too thick to comprehend.”

“She’s…” Hera started. There had been words she’d used before. All of them embarrassed her to say aloud. However, while Alistair stood there, her silence making him grow smug, Hera had to say something. “Nyx is practically my sister.”

Alistair pulled back at this. Hera’s face was flushed with heat and color. Zevran, looking on, was almost jealous at the sight. She wasn’t shy about sex, so he rarely got to see this lovely pink on her cheeks. This, apparently, was the thing to make her vulnerable enough to blush. That, and the fact that Orzammar was hot as a rage demon.

“I...hadn’t thought of it like that,” Alistair admitted.

“Of course you hadn’t,” Hera said. “You’re not the one who remembers two lives. You’re not the one who has been two people and yet you’re still just...one. You don’t have to live in my head or hers and pick between Mythal and the Maker. Nyx is the only other one who can appreciate what it’s like.”

“But, isn’t that still her fault?” Alistair said, though he was quiet now. Their little group no longer drew the attention of strangers, which was a relief considering how strange the things Hera was saying must have sounded to an outsider. Wynne and Zevran still remained several paces back, for the moment.

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten that,” Hera said. There was nothing more to say in regards to that particular argument. No sentiment, however pretty, would erase what had been done. “Nyx is still trying to make up for that.”

Alistair thought of old conversations on cool nights. Little things Nyx said that took on new meaning since the truth was revealed to him. There was something faint about doing good to outweigh the bad. Alistair had no context for it at the time, but even with it he wasn’t sure. Good and bad didn’t cancel each other out, they existed simultaneously in each person. Forgiveness was not always something one could fight to earn. It was offered, or it wasn’t.

They moved along, conversations diverted by the other two people travelling with them. Wynne was saying something about dwarves and the Fade, how they couldn’t dream. Alistair barely caught a word of it, just nodding as she spoke. Wynne knew this, but chattered along anyway. She needed the distraction almost as much as he did.

How many times had Nyx come close to saying something? Or had she ever? “Ifs” did no one any good, and yet they remained to plague Alistair’s thoughts. He went over things they spoke about to see if he should have caught on sooner. But that was when he remembered something else.

An old lover who died on the field of battle. That was what Nyx had told him. Alistair did not have to be a genius to guess that she’d meant him. Or, rather, the _other_ him. The version of himself he could never be, who was possibly the person Nyx saw when she looked at him. Was the other Alistair different from him in any way? The comparisons could be inconsequential, but it was hard not to wonder if she only loved him because she had once before.

In concept, Alistair was the exact same man as the one Nyx had lost. Emotion did not follow concept or logic or reason. So Alistair was left torn, jealous of some other version of himself he’d never known, and angry at him for having left Nyx. He might not know the whole of the circumstances that lead to his death once, but he knew she performed her ritual in his name. Which made Alistair angry at Nyx, because that placed the weight of its consequences upon him, as well.

Which left uncertainty to stir in his core. He could ask her again, but to watch her cry brought out the pity. Alistair could also choose to just sink into his fury and forget any affection he once held. Around her he felt insane, and being apart wasn’t making it much better. By the next time Alistair saw Nyx, perhaps his head would clear.

♢♢♢♢♢

Cronus didn’t much like walking around with Shale, because there was no such thing as inconspicuous when the giant talking rock was around. He liked it even less in Dust Town, which was very aptly named given all the clouds Shale was kicking up as they walked. Nyx had sent them here to handle whatever “business” needed doing, but all Cronus saw were beggars and thieves. The latter he dispatched, but the former he wanted to avoid.

Judging by the look on her face, Morrigan felt similarly. Nyx probably meant to have them act charitably and offer help or coin. Apparently, Nyx didn’t know Cronus well enough to understand that wasn’t something that he was going to do. He was just about ready to give up and leave, when a particularly desperate beggar called out to them.

“Could you spare a coin, m’lord? It’s not for me, it’s my son. He’s sick and hasn’t any clean clothes to wear nor food to eat. Neither have I,” a female dwarf said.

“Where’s his father? Shouldn’t he be helping you?” Cronus said. He did not hide his contempt.

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” the woman said. “He only wanted me because I was in the Mining Cast. If I’d given him a daughter, his status would have elevated. But instead I gave him a casteless son, so he abandoned us both.”

_It wouldn’t be the first time a parent left their child,_ Cronus thought bitterly. His magic had flourished early in life. It was mere days after his hands had started to glow with power and he spoke with his father about walking in the Fade when the templars came. He couldn’t have been older than seven at the time.

“My father,” the woman was saying, eyes brimming with tears, “he offered me a chance to return home, but I’d have to...I’d have to…” She sniffed loudly, wiping away any threat of crying. “But I can’t even bear to think about it.”

“Do what?” Cronus asked. She just _had_ to be so cryptic and vague. The woman must have known that would leave him curious. Why was it there were so many women in the world who knew how to play Cronus like a fiddle?

“He wants me to abandon my child in the Deep Roads to die,” the woman said, covering her mouth. “Pretend I never bore him.”

“For tradition this man would see his grandchild ripped apart by darkspawn?” Morrigan said. “My, but dwarves are committed.”

“Where is your father now?” Cronus asked. Morrigan gave him a look, but was curious to see where he would go with this.

“He… You would speak with him?” the woman said. “If you believe you could convince him to change his mind, I will not stop you from trying. He should be in Tapster’s Tavern.”

Cronus gave no confirmation to the dwarven mother. He simply turned on his heel and started the walk back towards the market. He’d seen the tavern as they passed to get to Dust Town.

“Why are we involving ourselves in this? Nyx would have wanted us to, but she doesn’t need to know we met this woman,” Morrigan said.

Cronus didn’t bother with answering her, either. He realized this would upset Morrigan, who hated being ignored above all else, but there was nothing he knew to say to convince her. It wasn’t about Nyx, though that Warden was sure to get on his case about not helping every single soul that needed something from them. It was about—damn it all—compassion. Sympathy. Cronus retched quietly at the thought.

If someone had offered to speak for him when he was a boy, maybe Cronus would have avoided the Circle. Even if he was only kept from it for a year or so longer, it was better than remembering how disgusted his father had been. Any time he thought of home, the only image he could summon up was the sight of his father’s back turned as Cronus wept and cried out for him, trying to claw his way out of a templar’s grasp.

Anger had summoned up in Cronus by the time they reached the tavern, which only made Cronus’ threats more pointed. The woman’s father relented when Cronus pointed out that she seemed willing to starve to death to keep her son. It was more than he’d expected out of the sour old dwarf.

“You seemed to take that quite personally,” Morrigan noted as they turned back towards Dust Town once again. “You may have more in common with our Warden than I believed.”

“Would you rather I told her to kill the child?” Cronus asked. Even he was surprised at how he’d snapped at Morrigan just then, but he would not back down from it. If he had expressed irritation with her and he bent as soon as she disapproved, Cronus would never have her respect again.

“I did not say that,” Morrigan said, eyes narrowed. “Though yes, ’twould have been a simpler solution, it also would have been even easier if we just didn’t bother at all. That woman could never be a capable mother if she wasn’t determined enough to fight her own battle.”

“Maybe so,” Cronus said, “but I don’t regret what I did.”

Morrigan huffed, but argued no further. Cronus realized there was one thing he hated more than when she formed every sentence as a question: her silence. At least if she spoke, even if what she said vexed him, Cronus could follow her train of thought and find out what she wanted from him.

When Morrigan wouldn’t even give him a clue, he was stuck treading just to keep his head above the water. Cronus frowned at himself for the metaphor, because the templars had never even allowed them to swim. Not that it had stopped that one blond kid some years back.

In any case, it was done, and all that was left was to tell the dwarven mother that she and her son were welcomed back home. Cronus was curt when he told her, but she was still eternally grateful, even promising to pledge her son to his service in the future. Not that Cronus saw any use for it.

When Cronus ran into the lyrium smuggler, it lifted his spirits with the thought of coin. Returning to the Circle was not something he had wanted to do, at least not so soon, but given the circumstances, maybe a little trip away would do him some good. Not that he could mention to Nyx the reasons he wanted to go. She would probably frown on such activities. Hypocritical, considering some of the things she’d done.

In any case, Cronus decided they were done with helping out for the day. If Nyx wanted anything else done, she’d need to do it herself. Or maybe get one of her other lackeys to do it.

♢♢♢♢♢

“It sounds like there are a few reasons to return to the Circle Tower,” Leliana said. Cronus told them someone in Dust Town needed them to make a delivery, of sorts, and Wynne brought up Dagna’s request to go there for study.

“It’s not far from here,” Hera said. “Why not send a few people there, have them back within a few short days? You already said there will be more business before we actually go to the Deep Roads.”

Nyx pursed her lips in contemplation. They had secured a nice table in the back of Tapster’s, dark and quiet and away from most people. Nyx could advise without fear of someone unwanted overhearing. Though she was sad that she didn’t spy Oghren among the tavern-goers. She thought for sure he would be there, of all places.

“I suppose that’s not a bad idea,” Nyx said. “I still don’t know what Bhelen will ask of us, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. Jarvia could be a challenge but...I’m sure we can handle her, even in a smaller number.”

“Jarvia’s the crimelord, right?” Artemis asked.

“Yes,” Nyx said. “Even if Bhelen doesn’t ask us to take her out for his campaign, we’ll want to take care of her. For the sake of the people she preys on.”

When she said things like that, Alistair’s head spun even more. He saw the good person he thought he’d known, but could never match it to the Nyx who sought out the Changeling. He thought his mind might clear by the end of the day, but Alistair sat clutching a mug of ale trying to drown...something. Perhaps it _was_ his sorrows, but he wasn’t sure that was even the right word for it.

“Great, then I’ll go,” Cronus said. “I could probably handle it all on my own, even. Irving knows me so he’ll listen if I tell him to take in this dwarf girl of yours.”

“Dagna,” Nyx reminded him, though he probably knew it already. Many of the little frustrations from Cronus were done on purpose. Even if that purpose was merely to annoy. “I don’t know that going alone is a good idea. It’s a short trip but there could be highwaymen who would want to take this ‘valuable thing’ you’re supposed to deliver.”

Nyx knew it was lyrium. She’d not done it herself, out of a sense of remaining lawful. Feigning ignorance helped with the guilt of letting it slide. They needed coin, yes, but Nyx was also tired of arguments. Nyx was tired in general, to be honest.

“I’ll go with him,” Alistair volunteered.

Nyx’s mouth hung open for a moment, but she shut it and bit her lip to keep from protesting. Whatever his reason, she had no right to stop him. “That...would be wise. Leliana, could you—”

“Of course,” Leliana said quickly. “I’ll look after them.” Nyx would thank her later, but for now she just met her eye with a meaningful look.

“I’ll go too, then,” Artemis said. Where Leliana went, so did she. The glance they shared was sweet to watch.

“I would like to go as well,” Sten said. He was also looking at Leliana.

Nyx had no clue what was going on there, but had no reason to stop him either. “Alright. The five of you should be enough,” Nyx said. She looked to Alistair, wishing she could quiet the pounding of her heart. “Keep safe.”

Alistair nodded, but looked away from her after that. Space would be good, they told themselves. With distance between them, they could think without the distraction of one another ever present. Nyx called up a memory, back in the ruins after facing the Changeling abomination. Her head on his armor while he whispered gentle encouragement. Alistair believed in her then. Nyx held a hand to her chest, and tried to believe in herself. It was all she had, for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh noooooo they’re splitting up! Don’t worry I’ve got plans. Or worry, because I have plans.


	22. At the Limit

Cronus had known that Morrigan would get that he needed to be apart for a while. That didn’t mean it didn’t bother him that when he’d mentioned leaving for the Circle, she’d not even looked up from her nails as she examined them with great fascination. Morrigan had even fought the wicked grin when Alistair said he’d leave, limiting herself to a smirk. She was dedicated to apathetic. Which made Cronus just _pathetic._

At least the journey east was painless, considering the fear of highwaymen Nyx mentioned. While he’d been meaning to put his mind off it, Cronus did think an upsetting amount about Alistair’s intentions in leaving. If Cronus was lucky, Alistair might just leave for good. It would make Morrigan happy, as far as Cronus knew.

He had already had the fortune of a silent Alistair, which was enough. Alistair was so consumed by his worries, he didn’t even take some of the easy opportunities for jokes. They flew right over his head, which made Cronus want to laugh more than any quip could have. Leliana frowned at the mage every time he got caught taking joy at Alistair’s pain.

That was something Cronus hadn’t been spared from. Leliana and her elf, whose name he still hadn’t bothered to learn proper, were the very definition of saccharine. At night, Cronus’ tent was a welcome escape from giggles and soft stolen kisses. Relationships were never that easy, in his experience. One of them would disappoint the other, at some point.

He had never been so grateful to see the Tower in his life. Mostly because he hadn’t seen the outside much, save for those few times when he was still pretty young when they were taken outside for fresh air and exercise. The First Enchanter was surprised, but smiled wide and welcomed Cronus back.

“We’re not here for long. Alistair, you tell him about the dwarf. I’m going to take care of this delivery,” Cronus said. He knew Alistair was gaping after him, but didn’t care. None of them followed, at least.

He knew the mage he was supposed to seek out, if only vaguely, so it didn’t take long to pick him out. Cronus did so enjoy the sight of the templars hard at work, still cleaning up the mess the blood mages had made. He hoped they’d drown in all that was spilled that day. It was their fault, whether they acknowledged it or not.

Cronus waved dismissively at Cullen as he passed. How quick _that_ one was to change his tune. From “I don’t want to hurt anyone” to “kill all mages” in just a couple of days. Cronus had never suspected any less, even when Cullen spoke to him after the Harrowing. All templars were the same.

He bullied a bit of extra coin out of the sucker of a mage that wanted some lyrium, and nearly skipped off with glee. Cronus smiled as he returned to the entrance, until he saw the others, and his mood soured. Dagna was accepted for study, and they could return to Orzammar as soon as they were ready to leave.

“Do you think we could go to Redcliffe, first?” Artemis asked.

Cronus’ brow furrowed. “Why would you want to go there?”

“Nyx mentioned a letter to Arl Eamon, about the Alienage. I was hoping...there might be news by now,” Artemis said. “Plus, Sten has his sword there. It shouldn’t take too long if we hurry, right? A boat across the lake could even cut our time down.” She looked around herself for support, but saw only passiveness or doubt. “Please, Alistair. They’re my family.”

“We may be needed by now,” Leliana argued. “I know you’re worried, but I don’t want to abandon our friends when they are counting on us to return.”

Artemis was not discouraged, though it stung to lose Leliana’s support, out of all of them. Yet, she stared ahead at Alistair, knowing that the others would follow where he went. For being so reluctant to lead, he had the natural charisma needed that made the others follow. Even Cronus towed the line, when he had to.

“We should go,” Alistair decided. Leliana started to interject, but Alistair didn’t let her. “We can make it in just a few days, then the return trip to Orzammar is a few more. They only need us for the Deep Roads. If it comes to it, I’m sure they’ll hold off on leaving until we’re back. At worst, they get a few days to take a break from all the work.”

Leliana was upset, but didn’t bother arguing after that. Cronus wanted to laugh again. So desperate was Alistair to get away that he’d even risk the rest of their group needing help. Knowing Morrigan was back there, Cronus was almost concerned, but shook the feeling away. She could handle herself, and perhaps Alistair was right. Nyx could wait to leave for the Deep Roads until they got back. There was no big hurry.

♢♢♢♢♢

By that time, Nyx and the others had already entered the Deep Roads anyway, out of sheer necessity. Bhelen had “found” some documents that revealed Harrowmont to be a dirty dealer, but one of the people that needed to see the papers was leading an expedition. At least it wasn’t too far in, so it was safer than the places Nyx and her companions would need to travel later on. Plus, there was the reminder that it was safer to travel during a Blight, what with all the darkspawn gone topside.

It wasn’t that reassuring to know. At least it was done quickly, and the return trip saw extra backup with the dwarves they’d met there. The work was done, and they could call it a day for now. Bhelen asked Nyx to return the next day, when he would ask them to kill Jarvia and her men in his name.

For that night, however, they were ready to go to bed. They still slept in a set camp outside of Orzammar, where Leliana had left Schmooples in the care of Bodahn. Bhelen could have spared rooms for them, if he’d wanted to, but Nyx and her fellows hadn’t been offered so much yet. Plus, Perseus liked having space to run and play with Scooby. Watching the two of them was a comfort.

“You seem to be doing well,” Wynne said, coming to sit beside Nyx. “I had wondered, after Alistair decided to go, how you would fare. It was big of you to put your feelings aside and accept his request.”

“Not really,” Nyx said. “But...thank you for saying so.”

“I have thought much about what you have done. What you are,” Wynne said. Her eyes were focused up at the stars. “I stand by what I initially said. It was dangerous and you risked much more than your own safety in doing it. Dark magic is not something to toy with. You know all this. However…”

Wynne took a deep, shaking breath. “If all you have told us of the changes you made is true, then it has really turned out for the better. Whether or not it was worth the chance you took is up to the Maker to decide, but you got lucky. Hera lives, and she is happy. I question her choice of getting involved with Zevran, but they do seem to work together. There is a fondness in him I had not thought to expect. And just the other day—though don’t tell her I told you this—Hera called you her ‘sister.’”

Nyx blinked in surprise, which made Wynne laugh. Nyx brushed her hair back, smiling despite herself at the joy in that moment. She’d never had a sister before. Tamlen may as well have been her brother, but a sister was something special. All that Goldanna could have been was what Nyx was becoming to Hera. Frustrating beyond measure, but loved.

“It’s at least accurate in a logical sense,” Nyx said. “We’re both of the same house, and of the same clan.” Her happiness was given away by the blush of her cheeks.

“What I feel the need to ask is, do you have any intentions on what to do with Alistair?” Wynne asked.

Nyx’s face fell, but not too dramatically. All her expressions were slight, for the moment, taking some caution around Wynne. She always read a person before they could realize what they thought for themselves.

“There are things I want,” Nyx said slowly, “and things that are likely to happen. There’s very little overlap of the two, if any.”

“And what is it you want?” Wynne said.

“For him to forgive me and love me like he did before,” Nyx whispered. She flicked a stray tear from her cheek. “At best, I can see him accepting what I did. Not forgiving...accepting. Even if we are no more than friends…” She pulled her knees close and scrunched up her face to keep from crying. “I just don’t want him to hate me.”

“Oh, child,” Wynne cooed. “I don’t think he could honestly hate you if he tried. Alistair has shown that much to me.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” Nyx said. She rocked for a second, then stopped. “Is there anything I can...should do to make it better?”

“Continue being honest. I’m sure you’ve figured that part out already,” Wynne said. “And give him time. Which you’ve also already done, as well as offering space. You have a good heart, Nyx, if fragile. Continue to show him that.” She paused for a long moment, then met Nyx’s eye. “And no more dark magic.”

“I swear, I’ve no intention to do anything like that ever again,” Nyx said, but felt like she ought to cross her fingers as she said it. Morrigan’s ritual was dark, as well, but that was not something Nyx planned on telling anyone who didn’t need to know. There were some secrets she still needed to keep.

♢♢♢♢♢

Lake Calenhad was freezing, even though they were just travelling over it by boat. Alistair resolved to walk back to Orzammar after they were done in Redcliffe, even if it took longer. Sten shivered most out of all of them, but still refused the blanket Leliana offered. Maybe staying warm wasn’t the will of the Qun. Alistair chuckled under his breath.

Cronus hadn’t spoken since they left the Circle. Alistair looked over to him every so often, just because there wasn’t much else to look at over the expanse of cold water. Cronus would keep playing with a ring he wore while they went. It wasn’t one of the ones that Sandal had enchanted, though most among them had one or two of those decorating their fingers. The mage was fixated on it, and a few times he closed his eyes while he fiddled with the band. Cronus always let his lids fly back open with a muttered curse seconds after. Whatever he wanted to do wasn’t working.

Artemis had huddled with Leliana for warmth. She still had her same concerned expression, and Alistair might have assumed it had frozen into that shape from the cold if she didn’t occasionally move her lips to comment on whatever story Leliana told. The bard never seemed to run out of stories and songs to share. Alistair would have made a horrible bard. He wasn’t a very good singer, for starters, but he also doubted he’d be able to remember the hundreds of tales Leliana knew.

“Wasn’t Morrigan’s mother called Flemeth, as well?” Artemis said.

“Was she? I never had the pleasure of meeting her,” Leliana said. Alistair snorted at that, but looked sheepish when Leliana gave him a pointed stare. “She must have taken the name to seem threatening. Or perhaps as a joke. I doubt Morrigan was actually raised by the Flemeth of legend.”

“We have heard stranger things we know to be true,” Alistair said.

Everyone knew he meant Nyx. He’d still not managed to speak her name. Leliana cleared her throat, trying to think of another story she could tell. She did have hundreds, but the true art was picking the right one to suit the moment.

“Do you have any stories with happy endings?” Artemis said. “Maybe one about love.”

“Please, anything but that,” Alistair groaned. He didn’t even want to hear the word.

“Anything besides happy endings? Or…” Artemis asked.

“The second one,” Alistair said.

Leliana sighed. “I can tell you about the horrid little dog that I used to live with. He was nothing like the mabari hounds Nyx and Hera have,” she said, emphasizing the name just to get on Alistair’s nerves. He glared, but Leliana just smiled and told her story.

Artemis laughed at all the right moments, which delighted the bard. It wasn’t a story Leliana had been taught to tell, just something she’d thought of. She’d only ever tried to share that one with the other sisters in the Chantry, but they didn’t get what made it so funny. At least she’d gotten the Revered Mother to chuckle, though Leliana always suspected it was just to please her. Artemis’ laughter was genuine. Not to mention adorable.

“Do you see the shore yet?” Cronus said, the complaint he had restrained, though evident in his tone.

“We won’t reach shore for at least an hour, yet,” Sten said. Alistair wondered if he’d been counting the seconds since they left. It was something to focus on.

Cronus made a dramatic show of leaning back, forgetting that they were in a boat and movement could rock all of them. They didn’t tip, which they were all thankful for, but Cronus did receive some angry looks. He wouldn’t be doing _that_ again. Sten might not have been counting the seconds, but Cronus was starting to. One hour. He could survive that much.

♢♢♢♢♢

“I don’t understand,” Nyx said, pacing. “Lake Calenhad isn’t that far from here. It shouldn’t be taking this long. Unless…”

“Nyx, don’t do this to yourself,” Hera said. “Nothing is wrong. Cronus is probably just walking extra slow because he knows that any delay will drive you crazy.”

“But if something went _wrong_...” Nyx said. She kept pulling at her hair as she ran her hands through it. It was always mussed, but now it was out of control, fraying every which way. Hera had to take her hands from her to get her to stop. She’d done this for Nyx many times before, a number of times that day alone.

Jarvia was dead and already two days into decomposing. Bhelen’s team celebrated the victory, and were supposed to let them know when they came up with the next plan to push him forward as king. Hera could not let the dwarves see Nyx in this state, which was part of why staying in guest rooms in the palace concerned her. They needed to be where Bhelen could send someone to find them without much hassle, or—Ancestors forbid—going topside.

But that also meant a dwarf could barge in and find the Grey Warden that was supposed to inspire hope in their people in the middle of a break down. Hera guided Nyx to a chair, trying to force her to breathe evenly. Hera kept a hold of Nyx’s hands while they sat together. When she’d first started doing that, it was violent and scared Nyx more than it offered comfort. Now it was something that kept her present.

“Alistair isn’t alone out there,” Hera said. “Cronus can heal him even if he did get hurt, and Alistair can fight. No mere bandit is going to get the jump on him.”

“I know that, I do but…” Nyx shook her head. “What if he dies again and I can’t be there to prevent it? What if I lose him and can’t go back because…because…” She pulled her hands from Hera’s and threw her arms around the other woman. Hera jumped at the contact, but returned the hug after a moment. She rubbed Nyx’s back, shushing her gently.

“He’s not dead, I swear to you,” Hera said. “Alistair knows he needs to come back or I will personally drag him back from the Maker’s side to kick his sorry hide.”

It was quiet save for Nyx’s sniffling sobs. Hera could think of nothing more to say or do that would help. She wished Leliana were there to offer a song. Or maybe she could call in Zevran for a joke. Or Wynne could be grandmotherly as she tended to do. Perseus and Scooby were there at least, whining at Nyx’s feet with sympathy.

The door opened suddenly, and both women moved to look at who was coming in. Zevran stood at the door, still telling whoever else was there to wait for him to speak with the Warden. Whoever wanted to see Nyx was impatient, but Zevran sweet talked enough to buy them a couple of minutes.

“Sorry ladies,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Bhelen’s men have come up with the brilliant plan that we already know at last, and don’t want to waste a single second waiting to inform the Grey Warden.”

Nyx was already trying to smooth her hair down and rub her eyes, but was moving so erratically that she was only making it worse. Hera took her hands, pushing them down and making sure Nyx let them stay. Then Hera got to work, quickly finger-combing Nyx’s black hair. Zevran fetched a handkerchief for them, so Hera could blot the skin around Nyx’s eyes.

“ _Ma serannas_ ,” Hera said without thinking. Nyx flinched. “Oh, sorry.”

“No, it’s not...you usually don’t use elven,” Nyx mumbled.

“Would you make fun of me if I told you I’ve practiced?” Hera said.

“Not at all,” Nyx said. “You should use it. After all, once the Blight is over, you’ll be free to return to the clan.”

Hera stopped fixing up Nyx’s face for a moment, before noticing the smudged makeup. Nyx didn’t wear much, but Hera wouldn’t let her go out looking like a mess. She swiped it into something cleaner the best she could manage.

“I’m not certain I’ll want to,” Hera said.

“But they’re your family,” Nyx said.

“And yours,” Hera said. “Though I know why you can’t go back. Personally, I just don’t know that I’ll be capable of returning to that life, knowing all that I do and with all the experiences I have now. For all they know, I’m dead and gone. Maybe it’s better if they do think that. I’m not who they think I am.”

The door opened again before Nyx could respond. She rose to meet Bhelen’s representative, who wanted them to follow him back to meet with the prince again. Nyx was put together enough that no one suspected she’d been crying just moments ago. Her hands still had a small shake, but Hera and Zevran stood on either side of her and held them still. They were a team, and stood as one, only disconnecting when they had to approach Bhelen.

Bhelen’s plan was the exact same as Harrowmont’s had been. Nyx wondered if he’d really come up with it on his own, or if he had spies trying to see what the opposition thought about doing. Maybe they really were more similar in how their minds worked than she once guessed.

“We will leave for the Deep Roads to find Branka as soon as we can,” Nyx promised, “but we cannot make our leave yet. Some of our allies have not yet returned from the help they offered some of your people. Knowing the danger that awaits us down there, we will need every bit of help we have available.”

“Alright, Warden,” Bhelen said. “But the longer you delay, the higher the chance that Branka will return to the Stone before offering her support.”

“She is a Paragon, is she not? Of all people able to survive this long, it would be her. A few more days should not make much difference,” Nyx said.

Bhelen was still displeased, but not enough to force them to go. He needed them more than they needed him, and everyone knew it. It didn’t serve his pride to acknowledge this. “As soon as your allies arrive, go to the Deep Roads. You know what is needed. That will be all.”

Nyx bowed and saw herself out, Hera and Zevran following behind. They returned to Nyx’s room, where she fought the urge to collapse into a panic once more. Hera asked if she would be alright on her own for the evening. Nyx assured the other two that she’d manage. She’d spent months alone with her pain once, had she not? Granted, the first few had been with Zevran. That was another necessary secret.

She tucked herself into bed early in the hopes that sleep would prevent her mind from fretting further. Before she could close her eyes, scenarios played out in her head. Places Alistair might have gone that delayed his return. Things Cronus might have done to get them into trouble. Artemis twisting her ankle and slowing their progression. Nothing deadly, nothing permanent, nothing that didn’t mean Alistair would return to her soon enough.

♢♢♢♢♢

Wynne had no spell to fix this. The state that Nyx was in was far worse. She was always distracted, her mind wandering. It had been eight days since Alistair and the others with him left Orzammar. No one blamed Nyx for her concern, but this was nothing they’d seen from her before. She’d just shut down in an attempt to shield herself from pain.

Bhelen was pushing for them to leave, however, and they had no new argument to give him. Nyx wouldn’t even meet with him, which made the Prince furious. Hera couldn’t tell him that it was because she was breaking apart. They had to go to the Deep Roads. Nyx was in no shape for it, but perhaps the need to survive would spark a little life back into her.

They met Oghren on the way to the entrance. Nyx had mentioned the dwarf to the others in the past, always speaking of him with a smile on her face. She just looked at him blankly now. Hera would have to step up and lead until Nyx was functioning. Perseus pressed against Nyx’s legs, unable to whine anymore because his throat was sore.

“Did they tell you what this Grey Warden was supposed to look like?” Hera asked Oghren.

“Stout and muscular, fair of face, but with a strong jaw and a bold nose, surrounded by a great glowing nimbus,” Oghren said. “If she’s a woman, she might be more slight, but her eyes will shine with the light of purity and her large but chaste bosom will heave magnificently.”

Hera clenched her jaw, her lips thinning to a line as she glanced beside her at Nyx. Nyx was slight and fair, but that was about where the comparisons ended. She certainly did not have a large chest that could heave in the manner which Oghren described. Worst of all, Hera could not escape Nyx’s eyes, dull and with a lifelessness that wasn’t like her. Hera didn’t know about the honey-colored irises shining with “purity,” but they normally gave Nyx an endearing, doe-like quality.

As for Oghren’s story, Hera fit a bit better, though her skin was darker than Nyx’s fair complexion. Hera was tempted to ask for the source of this information, to kick whomever was spreading ridiculous rumors. She rolled her eyes and held her tongue, letting the dwarves have their fun for now.

“I’ve been looking for hours, but I haven’t seen anyone who looks like that. Very frustrating,” Oghren said.

“I don’t know of a Warden by that...colorful description, but my friend here is, in fact, a Grey Warden,” Hera said. She chose the word “friend” in hopes that it would get Nyx’s attention and a reaction out of her. The best she got was that Nyx’s eyes lifted from the ground.

“Really?” Oghren said. “If she’s the best they’ve got, standards must have fallen way down.”

Hera had no idea how Nyx could speak of this dwarf with a glow in her eyes when he was so rude and stank of ale. “Let’s just say she’s had a rough time of it, yeah?” Hera said.

“Ah, on a bender. I can relate,” Oghren said with a throaty laugh. “Say, could I ask you a favor?”

“Let me guess,” Hera said, deciding she would like nothing more than to mess with this dwarf, “your name is Oghren. You’re the Paragon Branka’s husband, and a complete alcoholic. You have a dirty sense of humor, a passion for roast nugs, and haven’t washed your smalls in over a week. That about it?”

“So you _have_ heard of me!” Oghren said. Hera sighed, her attempt at playing psychic failing miserably. “If you know about Branka, then you must know I’m the only person still trying to save our sodding Paragon. If the Grey Wardens are looking for Branka for their precious prince, they’re going to need me since I’m the only one who knows what she was looking for. Might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her.”

“So you want to come along, I take it?” Hera said.

“Look at you, beautiful _and_ brainy,” Oghren said. “Listen, whatever Bhelen’s men told you about Branka’s location, what I know is they haven’t found her yet, which means they don’t know what she went into the Deep Roads to find. If we pool our knowledge we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck.”

“We’re in no condition to turn down help,” Nyx said, surprising everyone.

“It speaks!” Oghren said with another one of his strange laughs.

“Oghren knows how Branka thinks, isn’t that right?” Nyx said. Her expression still hadn’t changed from the blank one she’d had all day, but if she could make a sound, that was progress enough. “You can point out signs of where she’s been, where she’s going.”

“Do Wardens have mind-reading powers they don’t tell anyone about?” Oghren said. “Because I was just about to say something just like that. Does that mean we have a deal?”

“Yes,” Hera said. “What was Branka looking for then?”

“The Anvil of the Void. Might have been the most important invention in Orzammar’s history. The smith Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the golems forged on the Anvil. As far as anyone knows, it was build in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start there, if she could find it. The thaig is supposed to be past Caridin’s Cross, but no one has seen it for five hundred years.”

“Bhelen’s maps show the way to Caridin’s Cross,” Hera said.

“Perfect, that should get us started,” Oghren said. He turned and started to walk away, then called back to them, “What are you saps waiting for? Let’s get a sodding move on!”

“Lovely,” Hera said, once the dwarf was well out of earshot. “This is your precious Oggie?”

“He grows on you,” Nyx said with a shrug.

“Like a fungus, I’m sure.”

They moved past the guards, following Oghren into the dark. The Deep Roads awaited. Whatever had happened to Alistair and the others, they would have to find out once the Anvil had been destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back next week same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.


	23. Pressure

The castle Redcliffe guards were not expecting any of the Wardens to return so soon, but lead Alistair and his companions to Eamon anyway. The Arl was already in far better health than when they’d left him, the color returning to his face and more confidence in each step. Sadly, the good news he could offer ended there.

He’d received Nyx’s missive, charmed by the attempt at drawing a griffon. Alistair hadn’t known about that part, and hated how cute he found it. Artemis’ hopeful face fell further and further into despair as Arl Eamon told them about the news from Denerim.

A few men, the only few he could spare, had been sent to the city on horseback. As they were acting in the name of the Arl of Redcliffe, they couldn’t do anything violent or illegal. What word they did get was no more than the stories they already knew. There was a plague and the Alienage was quarantined. That was the story they got from every guard. The shiftier ones admitted to seeing some men in odd clothing milling about, but knew better than to say any more than that.

Leliana kept an arm around Artemis in support. Shianni had to be okay. Her father and Valendrian wouldn’t let anything happen to her family, or any of the other elves. She had to believe that much.

Arl Eamon did ask about Nyx, why she wasn’t with them, and Leliana spoke for Alistair. “There was a lot to be done in Orzammar before we could secure their alliance. We should be heading back as soon as possible to lend our help,” she said.

“Then I wish you luck,” Eamon said. “Let the Warden know that I am deeply sorry that I could not do more to act on the matter in the Alienage. When we go to Denerim for the Landsmeet, perhaps there will be an opportunity to help.”

There would be, as Nyx had said, but not without already losing a number of elves to the slavers. That was what Artemis was fighting not to think about. Her family had suffered enough, already. What more could the shemlen take from them?

Leliana waited with Artemis while the other three went to retrieve Sten’s blade. They sat on a bench outside the Chantry, their fingers tangled together as they listened to the Chant of Light. To Leliana, the words were a familiar comfort. Artemis did not feel the same way, but she had someone she cared for dearly by her side, which was enough.

“Tell me about your family,” Leliana said.

“I already told you about Shianni. Always getting herself in trouble and tempting herself with the drink. She has the most life out of anyone I’ve ever met. Or...she did. I don’t know that she’s recovered fully from all that happened,” Artemis said. “Soris is more level-headed, but that doesn’t mean he was always the best with words. I had to kick him in the shin to get him to say nicer things about his bride. I think he actually would have been happy with the match. The girl he was going to marry might not have been the prettiest thing, but she was very kind and thoughtful. He wouldn’t stop making fun of me for having the most handsome elf any of them had ever seen while I wasn’t interested in the slightest. He even offered to trade with me.” Artemis laughed. “The best part is, I think he was a little bit serious. Though he never told me if he favored men, so I may never know.”

“Isn’t he still alive?” Leliana said.

“With luck he’s just locked up,” Artemis said. “At worst...he’d’ve been hanged.”

Leliana waited for a beat, judging whether Artemis needed more than conversation. She could always pull her away, somewhere more private for a few sweet kisses. Leliana knew which of the two options _she_ wanted, but this moment was about Artemis.

“What about your parents?” Leliana said. “You never talk about your mother.”

“She died some years back. Taught me everything I know before she passed, though. It’s because of her that I’m an archer. And also it’s because of her that I know how to sneak around and pick locks, which my father never approved of. He only accepted the archery in trade for the other things she could teach. She was the first one I told about not liking boys, and she never questioned it or thought it strange,” Artemis said, a nostalgic smile on her lips. “She would point out other girls in the Alienage and ask me what I thought of them until she realized I was horribly embarrassed by the whole thing. I told her whenever I had a crush, and she teased me because…”

Leliana tilted her head at the sudden pause. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, no, it’s just…” Artemis said, clearing her throat. “My mom teased me about always having crushes on redheads.”

Leliana giggled, an awful little grin on her face. “So nothing has changed, then?”

“I suppose not,” Artemis said, shaking her head. She moved and leaned against Leliana, so their foreheads touched. “She would have loved you.”

“I’m sure I would have felt the same about her,” Leliana said, her voice quiet like they were sharing secrets.

Almost a minute passed before Artemis said, “Leliana? Can we find somewhere more...private?”

Leliana was all too happy to oblige. Hands still intertwined, Leliana lead Artemis away to a quiet part of the town. They would share a few stolen moments while they had the chance.

♢♢♢♢♢

In Sten’s presence, Dwyn cowered. He handed over the Qunari sword without any argument at all, just wanting to be done with the ordeal with his life to spare. Sten saw no need to kill the dwarf, after he was so compliant. Alistair was relieved there didn’t need to be any bloodshed. Nyx would have hated to hear that they’d gone off course only to kill someone for Sten’s sword. Alistair flushed.

“Now that is settled, we must return with haste. We have taken too long already,” Sten said, Asala in its rightful place on his back. “We should not have come here yet.”

“Aren’t you glad to have your sword back?” Cronus asked.

“I am...happy,” Sten said, so awkward and stiff the other two remained unconvinced that he actually was. “But this could have waited.”

“I didn’t exactly hear you complain on the way over,” Cronus said.

“It was not my place to say. You,” Sten said, looking to Alistair, “were our leader, and you chose to go, although it went against what we were told to do.”

“I don’t remember being elected leader,” Alistair said. He was perplexed at having this lecture turned on him.

Sten grunted. “You run from your problems when you should face them head on. It is cowardly,” he said. He started away before Alistair could even think of something to say. The giant had a lot more on his mind than he gave away.

Artemis and Leliana were not where the other three had left them. Alistair asked Cronus and Sten to wait for him by the Chanter’s Board while he went looking for the women. He knew every inch of Redcliffe, so it made the most sense for him of all people to go looking. Though when he found them, he wished he’d asked someone else to do it.

“ _Ahh!_ ” Alistair shouted, covering his eyes. Artemis just about flung herself away from Leliana, stumbling backwards as she went. Leliana was frozen where she stood, still leaned against the wall Artemis had pressed her into. “Are you decent?” Alistair asked after a moment.

“Alistair, we were never undressed,” Leliana said, smoothing her hair back down as she stood straight. “You can lower your hand.”

He did as she said while Artemis rubbed the area around her lips and a couple of spots on her neck to get the little bit of pinkish pigment off. Alistair cleared his throat and said, “We’ve got Sten’s sword, and we’re going to make our way back to Orzammar.”

“Are we taking that dreadful boat again?” Artemis asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but it is the quickest way across the lake,” Alistair said. Given Sten’s sudden desire to hurry back, whatever shaved time off the return trip seemed wise to take. “We’ve been away too long as it is.”

“So you...wish to return?” Leliana said. There was a second unspoken question hidden within her words. It wasn’t subtle in the least.

“I...know we need to go back,” Alistair said.

Leliana did not know how to translate that to her context. “Needing and wanting are two very different things. I know what must be done, but I’d like to know what you _want_ to do.”

“I want to…” Alistair started, then sighed. “I miss...Orzammar. I don’t know if I want to go to Orzammar, but I know I miss Orzammar and I’m worried about what’s happening. In Orzammar. But I also don’t know how I feel about...Orzammar. There are nice things about Orzammar, sure, but there’s also the whole...lava, thing.”

Artemis scrunched up her face and squinted her eyes. “What _are_ you talking about?” she asked. “Did I miss something?”

Leliana went to lay a hand on Artemis’ shoulder. “I’ll explain later,” she said with a wink. “Let’s go, then.”

Sten greeted them respectfully, and wanted to say something to Artemis. “You wanted to help me find my sword again, and for that you are kadan. The closest word I know in the common tongue is ‘friend.’”

“But I barely helped at all,” Artemis said, throwing her hands up. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but shouldn’t you thank Nyx?”

Sten nodded. “I intend to when we return, for her part in this. But it was you who insisted we come here, even if you had your own reason to do so. It was...kind of you, to think of me.”

“Oh, Sten,” Leliana said with glee. “You are such a softie.”

Sten groaned, but that only made her giggle. Alistair was frowning. Artemis was thanked for asking that they come to Redcliffe, while he got a lecture for deciding to go? That hardly seemed fair.

In any case, they needed to board the boat again and start out. They would cross to the other side of Lake Calenhad, on the western side of its shores. Whatever brought them to Orzammar faster would do. Even if Alistair didn’t understand Sten’s reasoning for being upset, he was starting to feel guilty. The others would not have expected them to spend so long away. They might have enjoyed the break before the Deep Roads, but they were sure to worry. Nyx definitely must have been worried.

Given all the tension of late, she may have assumed the worst. Wanting to avoid seeing Nyx for a time wasn’t a ridiculous desire, but doing so in a way that left her unaware wasn’t fair. Alistair couldn’t figure out if his decision had been made with this consciously in mind or not, but he knew it was a punishment for Nyx. Besides that, he had been honest with Leliana before, though he’d said it in a roundabout way. Alistair missed Nyx.

Leliana was watching Alistair with a smile on her face. The concern he had was almost palpable. “This might work out after all,” she said wistfully.

“What was that?” Artemis asked.

“You’ll see,” Leliana promised, kissing her cheek. “Don’t you worry.”

♢♢♢♢♢

“Shale! Get them inside!” Hera shouted. “Morrigan, take out the ones on the right!”

They’d been following her command since the start. They were already all the way into Ortan Thaig, but things weren’t going so well. The darkspawn and deepstalkers had been bad enough, especially in such a large number, but now they were facing specters, spiders, and even golems. All while trying to avoid or disarm any traps that littered the grounds.

Shale had Zevran and Wynne slung over each of his arms, carrying them into the cave where Ruck lived. Hera hadn’t been able to ask about the strange dwarf just yet, given all the fighting they were doing, but Nyx had looked as if she meant to run after him just before the fighting began. Ruck’s manic shouting had drawn the attention of of beasts of all sorts, and they were wildly outnumbered.

Still, they’d fought, knowing it was that or accept death. Oghren had to be avoided whenever they were on the battlefield together, his drunken, rage-induced fighting style too unpredictable to go near. Nyx had already known this, giving him a wide berth while she took on her own opponents. Stargazer seemed to shine brighter this far underground.

Hera skirted around the last remaining spider, cutting its legs at the weak points until it collapsed. Both mabari had helped in finishing off the rest of them, but even they were growing weak. Hera stabbed her dagger through the arachnid’s head when she was done with that. It was not a kind death, which was fine with her. The ugly things deserved no kindnesses.

Nyx cleaved through the somehow-partially-corporeal specters that attacked. It didn’t make them disappear instantly, but it weakened them, however that worked. Enough cuts and the ghosts faded back into nonexistence. Perseus rejoined her side while Scooby was splitting off to find Hera.

Morrigan and Oghren were dealing with a group of darkspawn, backed by a stone golem. Morrigan did what she could first to paralyze the ’spawn, making it easy for Oghren’s axe to swing through them in a clean line. Three of them fell at once when the magic holding them in place wore off. Only one genlock remained, which Morrigan coated in thick ice. Oghren twisted his massive battleaxe to smash into the frozen darkspawn. It shattered on contact.

Hera joined the two while the golem heaved a rock above its head. They scattered to avoid the boulder as it flew towards them, cracking apart into smaller pieces as it landed. Hera panicked when Scooby let out a cry of pain. One of the broken chunks of rock had struck his side. She put a hand on the pup, and told him to run into the cave with Shale and the others. He whined a complaint, wanting to stay at her side, but Hera would not see him hurt.

She looked back to the golem once Scooby was far enough away. Hera wasn’t sure what good daggers and an axe would do against a creature made entirely out of rock. At least Morrigan could start her attack, sapping the life energy from the golem. Hera saw bruises and cuts on Morrigan’s skin disappear in a flash. It wasn’t blood magic, but it sure as hell was spooky.

Then Hera remembered something. Nyx had mentioned something about crystals in regards to Shale before. This golem, though it lacked the free will their companion had, possessed similar crystals on its shoulders and arms. Daggers might not do much good, but a powerful swing from a large axe or blade…

“Oghren! Try to strike the crystals to weaken it!” Hera shouted. The golem changed its stance, seeming to have understood her. It didn’t matter, because Oghren would charge regardless of the dangers.

Nyx ran up beside Hera. “What is he doing?” she asked in horror.

“Striking the crystals,” Hera said. “That’s their power source, right?”

“He’s running right at the thing!” Nyx said.

Oghren received a punch in the gut that knocked him flat just as she spoke. Nyx shrieked, but tightened her grip on Stargazer. Hera’s eyes opened wide with fear. Why did it feel like his injury was her fault? If this was what being in charge was like, Hera absolutely did not want to command them anymore. But Nyx had been having difficulties staying present since they’d first left.

“Morrigan, stop it from moving as best you can,” Nyx said. She wasn’t so much shouting as her voice was just so powerful it boomed clear across the room. Somehow she was holding it together for now. “Hera, use distraction techniques and keep it occupied, but do not engage. Hold its focus for me. You too, Perseus.”

Hera nodded, running ahead with the mabari at her heel. Morrigan had managed to slow the golem enough for Oghren to stand and move away again. He was dragging his axe on the ground with one hand, the other resting over his injured side. They would find out later that he’d broken a couple ribs.

Hera was able to pull the golem further away, yelling obscenities at it and striking its crystals a couple of times with her daggers just to piss it off. Perseus ran circles around its large stone legs, barking like mad. If translated to common, he was probably saying something rather vulgar.

This worked, and Hera had to dodge a swinging fist so she didn’t break a few ribs like the dwarf had. Hera and Perseus continued to draw the golem’s attention, until Hera saw Nyx move in behind it.

When the moment was right, Nyx brought Stargazer down on the golem’s right arm. The crystals embedded there shattered into pieces. Its growl then was like the sound of dragging metal across gravel. Nyx was already pulling back. She looked to Hera with a nod, which Hera didn’t understand. Nyx would have clarified, but she was busy dodging the furiously swinging arms of the golem.

Morrigan had been continuing an assault of spirit magic from afar, purple bolts flying from her staff in a rapid fire. The witch then twirled the staff in the air, crashing one end against the ground to summon up a spell of ice. It froze over the golem’s left shoulder. Hera took a guess at what Nyx had meant when she saw this, and sprinted towards the thing.

She raised her daggers high and put all the force she could muster into them as she brought them down on the frozen part of the golem’s body. Another group of crystals shattered. The crystals on its left arm were destroyed moments later, when Nyx took an opportunity in the golem’s moment of agony to strike. She only just barely missed the swing that came at her after that.

Oghren appeared beside Hera seconds later, lifting his battleaxe high to crush the crystals on the right shoulder. The golem fell forward, shaking the ground around them.

“Into the cave, _now,_ ” Nyx commanded. Hera met her eyes for a moment, and held, before sheathing her daggers and running towards Ruck’s dwellings.

There was shouting when they arrived. Ruck had not liked being followed, and Shale wasn’t helping much. Nyx marched forward, Perseus safely at her side, ready to handle the situation. She knelt in front of Ruck, speaking in a soft voice like a mother’s. Hera watched this scene, but turned towards Zevran after only a second.

He’d been bitten by one of the venomous spiders. The poison was not likely to kill him in that amount, but it did send searing pain through the arm with the bite. Hera knelt over Zevran, pulling a health potion and some elfroot from her pack. She lifted his head onto her lap so it was easier for him to drink when she held the potion to his lips.

Zevran swallowed the red liquid with a sigh. “I admit I was hoping you would give that to me in a kiss,” he said with a weak chuckle.

“You’ve been poisoned, not suffocated,” Hera said. “I don’t think you require mouth-to-mouth.” She wetted the elfroot leaves with a bit of water, then laid them over his bite. Besides that injury, he had a number of deep cuts from darkspawn blades. If Wynne weren’t injured herself, they’d turn to her for help, but their healer was currently out of commission.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t try anyway,” Zevran said with a smirk.

Hera rolled her eyes, but lowered her face to peck his lips. “You know, when I said I wanted to play doctor, this was not what I had in mind.”

Once Nyx had calmed Ruck down, he was even offering them some supplies he had tucked away to help with the worst of the injuries. He didn’t want to speak to anyone else, but he liked Nyx enough to let them stay where it was safer for the moment.

Morrigan was busy tending to Wynne. Her one healing spell was still stronger than any elfroot or potion could be, though her forehead was covered in sweat. Her mana was dangerously low. She pawed at a pouch on her hip, finding a small vial of blue liquid. Lyrium was only carried as a last resort, but right now Morrigan needed the help.

With Wynne back in better shape, she would be able to not only heal herself, but properly heal Zevran and Oghren. For the time being, they were reliant on potions and herbal remedies. The situation was bleak, to say the least.

“Pretty lady has been so kind to Ruck. Has Ruck helped the lady?” Ruck said.

Nyx smiled sweetly at him. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “We won’t overstay our welcome, either.”

“Oh, Ruck doesn’t mind. Pretty lady and her friends, need rest, no? Ruck has room. Ruck has place to sleep,” he said.

“That is very generous of you,” Nyx said. She hadn’t wanted to stay here long, but given the condition of Wynne and Zevran, they would need to at least rest for a little while before continuing. Even Oghren couldn’t disagree, his adrenaline fading and giving way to the pain of his broken bones.

Nyx had already promised Ruck that she would speak to his mother and tell her he was dead. It was the best kindness she could offer the poor dwarf. She tried to think of a good story, something that Leliana might tell, to make Ruck seem courageous and heroic. His mother ought to be proud of her son, not fearful of what he’d become.

Nyx left Ruck to join Hera, who kept Zevran’s head on her lap even as he’d fallen asleep. Hera was absently stroking the blonde hairs from his face. Nyx saw something in Hera’s eye then that she wasn’t sure Hera herself was aware of. It was better if she was able to figure it out for herself, so Nyx kept quiet.

“How is he?” Nyx asked.

“He was well enough to flirt,” Hera said. She smirked, shaking her head. “I think he’ll make it.”

“Good,” Nyx said. “You might want to get some rest, too.”

“Ohhh no,” Hera said, ready to wag her finger at Nyx if she needed to. “I’m not the one who barely slept before we left, then stayed up when it wasn’t her watch in those other thaigs. Yeah, I noticed. You’re not that sneaky. I’ve gotten plenty of rest. Now, as your friend, I’m ordering you to go and sleep.” Hera looked back down to Zevran. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on him.”

Nyx could only hope that Zev felt as strongly as Hera did. Nyx found a nice quiet corner, placed Stargazer on the ground beside her, then leaned her back against the wall and let her head loll to the side. Perseus curled his front half onto her legs, sleep coming easy for him. Nyx’s eyes were heavier than she cared to admit, her heart fluttering from exhaustion and overexertion.

She had been staying awake on the off chance that Alistair and the others showed up suddenly to tell them they’d gotten to Orzammar just after Nyx and the others had first left. He would apologize and smile that goofy smile of his, teasing her for not waiting just a little longer. Leliana would tease Alistair in turn for running after Nyx as soon as he knew they had gone.

Sten and Cronus would snort in unison, but then Cronus would find Morrigan and fall in place. Then he’d heal all their injuries, Zev and Wynne popping up fresh as daisies. Artemis and Leliana would eye each other, thinking that no one else noticed. Alistair would hold Nyx. She wouldn’t need to kiss him or anything else. Just being in his arms was enough fantasy for now.

These idealistic dreams put her to sleep. Morrigan watched from afar, glad to see she was finally getting rest. Not because she had worried, no, but because they would need her to be strong. Morrigan did not concern herself with the wellbeing of others. Especially not when she closed her eyes and searched for Cronus and the ring.

Her eyes snapped open. Morrigan could not occupy herself with this dalliance while Wynne still lied on the floor, unconscious. Cronus was fine, wherever he was, and he would stay in Orzammar to wait for them. She would not dream of rescues or dashing heroes. Morrigan would work, bending the Fade to her will and closing the cuts on Wynne’s frail body.

Oghren downed three health potions like shots. Ruck was offering, so Oghren was happy to partake. It tasted marginally better than the ale at Tapster’s, but it contained no alcohol and even his emergency backup flask was dry. Which meant if and when they found Branka, he’d be forced to face her sober. Oghren wrinkled his nose.

Shale stood beside him, silently watching over the scene. It creeped Oghren out the way the golem could remain unblinking, always staring. Nyx knocked out with ease, but Oghren was finding sleep a little hard with Shale so close.

“Hey, rock, you mind moving a bit?” Oghren said.

“I’m sorry, was it speaking to me?” Shale said.

“I ain’t no it, rock. I’m one-hundred percent bonafide man. If anyone is an it here, that would be you,” Oghren said.

Shale groaned. “You are as insufferable as that blasted mage. I should crush you like those nasty birds.”

“Whaddya got against birds?”

“They seem to believe they are entitled to defecate wherever they please. Even if that happens to be on the head of a golem. And the noises they make, uck, terrible creatures,” Shale complained. “It must be nice underground, without all that sky to attract them.”

“Heh, well the ones that find their way into Orzammar when the doors are open usually end up as lunch. So yeah, I’d say it’s pretty sodding great,” Oghren said.

They seemed to reach a point of agreement there. They kept talking until Shale heard snoring. Oghren had fallen asleep mid-sentence. Shale couldn’t decide if he was impressed, or disgusted. In any case, the golem kept watch over those that fell asleep. It would only be about four hours until they were on the move again.

♢♢♢♢♢

Despite Hera’s most convincing protests, Zevran was going to walk on his own. He could manage, but only slowly. He at least promised to stay towards the back of the group while he was still too weak for any serious fighting. That was enough for Hera.

Wynne had woken from her long slumber, but had difficulty walking on her own. Shale cradled Wynne in one arm. It was frustrating to be given the task of pack mule or personal carriage, but at least Shale liked the old mage more than most of them. She had spirit, and not just the literal one inside of her. Wynne was not like certain other mages, who treated Shale as an object to be used.

Otherwise, they were mostly healthy and unencumbered. Oghren’s bones had been mended once Wynne awoke, as well as any of the remaining injuries on Zevran. The poison had run its course by then, for which he was relieved.

Nyx had no issue other than her sleeplessness. With how little she’d been getting, four hours of shuteye had not been enough to rejuvenate her. But Nyx didn’t want to laze about any longer. Branka and the Anvil were ahead, and the sooner she took care of them, the sooner they could leave Orzammar and find out what had happened to Alistair. Not that anything had happened.

_Shit_ , Nyx thought. She was not supposed to let herself think about it, but the sleep disoriented her more than anything. Nyx had to harden her heart, close herself off from anything. The task at hand was too important to let her emotions cloud all judgment.

Darkspawn appeared, and Nyx found her steel. With Stargazer in her fists, she felt a strange sense of peace before she charged. Being a Grey Warden was solid. Darkspawn came and darkspawn fell. Simple.

They pressed on, fighting more spiders and ’spawn. The darkspawn emissaries were the worst of the lot. They possessed magic that was stronger than most normal mages, and their hexes were difficult to fight. Nyx felt her eyes blur, and thought at first it was from the exhaustion, but realized soon after that a misdirection hex had fallen over her. Every swing she took was inches off of intended targets. Even when she attempted to account for the difference, it helped for one or two hits before returning to a series of misses.

Were Alistair there, he’d use his templar training to clear her eyes. Nyx couldn’t rely on him. Not when he wasn’t here, and not even if he was. She needed her own strength. Nyx continued to charge, adjusting for the blur, and ran the emissary straight through. Stargazer pulled back out of the darkspawn’s stomach, and it collapsed, gagging as it died.

A second emissary stood on the far corner of the room, but Nyx’s eyes returned to normal. The hex was lifted and she was free to fight again. Morrigan was the only one able to fight from a distance with Wynne out of commission, so Nyx relied on her to weaken the enemy mage from afar.

Hera and Oghren went to work against the next group of spiders. Zevran stayed out for longer than anyone expected, but when Hera began to slow, he was there to back her up. Hera’s brow tensed when she saw him, but she nodded at him in thanks. Zevran could handle himself, injured or not. He would bow out when it became too much for him.

The mabari, with Scooby’s wound from earlier fully healed, took on two Genlock archers all on their own. They knocked the creatures down onto their backs before ripping into their throats. The dogs only ever used their claws against darkspawn, smart enough to know not to chance dying from the taint in the monsters’ blood.

Nyx waited until the Emissary had wasted most of its mana trying to fight back against Morrigan. Wynne might not have been able to fight, but she kept up with the rest of them with her Creation magic. Morrigan was shielded by a field of energy. Spells could go out, but none could get in. If any of the darkspawn caught wise, they would go after Wynne to find a fist of crystal and stone pushing them back.

The moment came, and Nyx hurried past the last of the spiders. Stargazer chopped across the center of the darkspawn mage, then Nyx flipped the blade around and struck again, cutting in a diagonal. The battle ended as the mage fell, the spiders skittering away in fear.

Hera started to celebrate, but Nyx shook her head. There were more beasts they’d yet to face. They were in the spiders’ nest. That was why there were so many of them. Those were the children, and their mother was not happy to see them die.

The Spider Queen was thrice the size of most of the spiders. Besides her, at least ten more of the children crawled out of the nests. Hera swallowed her nerves, lobbing a firebomb at the Queen. The next battle began. But this went far worse.

The spiders were quick, and they were _everywhere_. They got bites in where they could before retreating. Nyx was glad to have her heavy armor, leaving her bite proof. But where Hera and Zevran got bites, their skin flared in irritation before their muscles tightened painfully and against their will. The dogs, too, were exposed. Though they bit back, they were still infected with venom.

It was difficult to move with the poison in their systems. Before long, Zev had fallen to his knees. Hera moved to protect him without even a thought. “Wynne!” she cried, but the mage was having her own problems.

Shale was trying to fend off three spiders at once, tucking Wynne as close to his stone body as possible to keep her flesh from their teeth. There was nothing they could do against Shale, but the more they pushed to reach Wynne, the more he struggled.

Morrigan wasn’t faring much better. She kept out of the way when any of the skittering creatures got too close, disorienting them with spirit magic as needed, but she was beginning to tire. Between running around and using so much mana, Morrigan had little energy left to fight the spiders.

Nyx was torn. She could offer help to any of her allies, or take on the Queen in hopes of discouraging or distracting the rest of her young. Wrought with indecision, Nyx became an easy target for the Queen’s acidic spit. It burned her face at the touch, and Nyx screamed. She recoiled, nearly dropping Stargazer.

Oghren was their last hope. He charged with wild fervor, axe curving in a mighty swing. He chopped off one of the Queen’s legs, and the massive spider hissed. Her children turned their attention on the dwarf.

Nyx fell to her knees, staring helplessly as Oghren became a whirligig, rounding about himself to cut down each spider that approached. His breathing was growing heavy. Berserkers like him were never known for stamina.

Nyx was going to die here. All that she’d done, all that she’d fought for, and a pathetic series of failures wore her down. She got up even still, trying to push through the masses to free her friend from the pile of spider corpses that surrounded him.

Morrigan fired off a couple of arcane bolts. Hera had Zevran on her back, making a retreat towards Shale. She needed to see that he was made safe again. Zevran was moaning in pain, trying to form words. Hera suspected it was a joke or another come-on.

“Stay awake,” Hera said. “Promise me you’ll stay awake.”

Scooby managed to follow, but Perseus wouldn’t go no matter how the other mabari howled. Perseus would stay by Nyx, even as his arms and legs grew stiff with pain. He fell weakly, unable to move any longer.

Nyx found Oghren’s arm among the spiders and pulled, their disgusting legs curling all over the place. His battleaxe was lost to the pile, but that didn’t matter. They needed only to get out with their lives. Oghren mumbled weakly, but the only word Nyx was able to discern was “Branka.”

More of the arachnids flanked her. Nyx had to drop Oghren to take up her blade. She wanted to sob, to fall apart and cry. But so long as the others needed her, Nyx would stand and stand again. If they were meant to die here, it would not be alone.

“You will not take them from me!” she screamed.

Nyx was about to bring Stargazer up for her last stand, when an arrow sank into the head of one of the spiders. A second flew and struck the body of another. Nyx lifted her head towards the direction of fire.

Artemis and Leliana were nocking more arrows on their bows, prepared to strike the spiders surrounding Nyx. Sten rushed towards the Queen herself, while Cronus went to Morrigan to see her healed. Nyx’s stomach twisted with joy at the final rescuer to arrive. Alistair pushed forward, knocking spiders out of his way and cutting them down with his blade.

Nyx had to move. She was not weak, she was not helpless, and she was _not_ going to die here. She felled two spiders with one swing of her sword. Though they seemed never-ending, Nyx knew what needed to be done.

“Keep Oghren and Percy safe!” Nyx called to Alistair. He gave a look of surprise, but nodded.

She hurried to join Sten, who was doing a fine job of weakening the Queen. He’d gotten a splash of the acid spit on his cheek, but took that opportunity to learn her attack pattern. The Spider Queen revealed each of her attacks before she performed them. When the Queen prepared more acid, Sten called a warning for Nyx. They weren’t hurt by it anymore.

Artemis refocused her fire on the Queen when Nyx went on the offensive against the massive spider. Leliana kept up support for Alistair. Oghren behind him was starting to stand again, his head clearing. The dwarf found his axe and rejoined the fight.

Cronus had wanted to remain close to Morrigan, but she pushed him to go to Wynne and the others. They needed their healers more than ever before. Cronus passed a wave of healing magic over everyone around Shale. Zevran and Wynne were still weaker than the rest, but most of their aches and pains were gone.

Hera’s stiff muscles from the poison relaxed. She even saw that Scooby was rising back to his feet. It was removed from their systems just like that. Cronus was truly a natural talent at healing.

With the group reassembled and back in fighting shape, the Spider Queen fell. Nyx did the honors of removing her head from her bulbous body. She panted, leaving Stargazer where it sank partway into the floor. Nyx could barely feel her arms and her legs were like jelly. Her face still burned with acid.

She stumbled back, the remaining spiders making a hasty retreat as Nyx turned. Nyx looked over the whole of the scene, catching those who received healing from Cronus, the archers and Morrigan, then finally allowing her gaze to settle on Alistair. He was there. He was _alive_. Nyx could not ask for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No actual notes this time, just wanted to take a moment to say a big thank you to everyone who has left kudos or comments. Even if you haven't, if you've stuck with me this far, good on ya! Love you all and thanks a bunch for your support!!!


	24. Let's Be Clear

No one moved or said a word. All the chaos culminated into a long moment of thick silence. Nyx and Alistair felt like they stared at one another for hours before their attention was drawn away.

Oghren belched, loud and proud as ever. He stood between the two of them, but they’d hardly noticed, looking right over his head at each other. That noise, however, was impossible to miss.

Oghren scratched his beard. “Great bleeding Ancestors, would you stop looking at each other like that? It’s freaking me out!” he shouted.

Nyx sighed, relaxing her posture. Relaxing it too much, apparently, as her legs buckled beneath her and brought her down to one knee. She’d caught herself, but it was clear she was badly wounded. Alistair stepped forward for a second, reaching as if to help her, but knew he was no healer.

Wynne and Cronus were already heading their way. Cronus went to Perseus, who was still breathing, however shallow. Nyx was relieved. When she’d seen that Perseus had fallen, she’d feared the worst. Once Cronus had finished healing the pup, he worked on Oghren, who grumbled something about being lower on their list of priorities than a “bleedin’ dog.”

Wynne jogged over to Nyx, urging her to sit. The mage’s hands flared green as they ran over Nyx’s limbs. Alistair was still stuck staring, catching the circles around her eyes. They seemed worse than he remembered.

Artemis and Leliana hurried to Hera and Zevran to swap information. Within a few minutes, Hera’s eyes shot daggers at Alistair in blame. Leliana managed to talk her down for the time being, but it was clear she was deeply unhappy. The shouting match Hera wanted to instigate would just have to wait. She busied herself by checking that Zevran had fully recovered.

All three of the mages had to take a bit of lyrium after that. With two of them healing the lot, and Morrigan having drained her mana to keep up the attacks, there was no denying they needed it.

Cronus finished healing anyone that was badly injured before going over to Morrigan. He wouldn’t say that he’d missed her, because Morrigan wouldn’t say it either, but it was nice to be close.

Nyx was able to stand again, thanks to Wynne. She took Stargazer and slung the massive blade over her back into its sheath. Though she knew Alistair was still watching, even if he was a bit stealthier about it now, Nyx did not approach him. She needed to focus.

Nyx brought Oghren to a stone slab that had clearly been used as a table. There were more of Branka’s chips in the walls, checking the stability of the area before moving on. On the table were papers; maps, notes, and a journal. Branka had followed Caridin’s lead through the Deep Roads, marking a section where she’d suspected the Anvil was located. What caught Oghren’s eye, however, was that she mentioned him by name.

“She was still thinkin’ of me all the way down here. Ol’ softie,” he said with a chuckle.

“Did you miss her when she left?” Nyx asked.

“What sorta question is that? Course I did. She was a helluva woman, aggravating and brilliant. But there was a reason she left me behind,” Oghren said. “We weren’t good for each other, and we both sodding knew it.”

Nyx didn’t think he sounded like he believed that fully. She wanted to bring up Felsi, remind him of the greater things on the horizon, but she couldn’t remind him of something he didn’t yet know. In all their time together in the Deep Roads, Nyx hadn’t broken the news to him yet. She didn’t think he’d particularly care, not about what she’d done, but Oghren would ask all sorts of questions about Branka and the Anvil of the Void. Ones Nyx wasn’t sure she’d be able to answer to his liking.

While those two searched for supplies in the chests left by the table, Alistair stood far off, a longing gaze trailing after Nyx. Leliana slid up beside him when she saw this to give him a gentle nudge.

“What are you waiting for?” she said. “Go talk with her.”

Alistair shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for that. Nyx had ignored him to go examine maps and notes with Oghren. She was likely thinking the same thing as Alistair. Their duty was more important for now. There would be time later, when Orzammar had its king, to speak.

The group rounded itself into formation once more, Nyx standing at front. Hera was glad to see her back in fighting shape and taking the lead, but noticed something in Nyx’s eye. The same stony, glazed over look they’d had when they left the city was present, though masked by resolve. Nyx might have been better than she was before, but she wasn’t back to the leader Hera knew she could be. She would stay by Nyx’s side, in case she was needed.

Shale and Wynne were also close to Nyx, while Sten and the archers brought up the rear. Nyx had not missed the new blade on Sten’s back. Without even speaking to one of those that had left, she knew they’d been to Redcliffe. The dullness she forced over her mind kept her from figuring out if she should react to that with anger or disappointment. It wasn’t good news, but it was better than worrying that they’d all perished on the Imperial Highway.

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx stopped the group just before they reached the Dead Trenches. She turned to face behind her, finding Alistair and addressing him as she said, “Do you sense that?”

“I...Maker, there’s got to be thousands of darkspawn up ahead!” Alistair said, his eyes going wide. “How are we supposed to face that?”

“It’s the bulk of the horde. They’ll be distracted,” Nyx said. “The Archdemon is there. We’ll have to be careful to evade its notice.”

Panic spread through their ranks. No one was ready to face the Archdemon itself, of all things, and Nyx hadn’t been wrong about anything yet. Oghren was one of the few who kept an odd calm about him, more impressed by the skills of a Grey Warden than concerned for the dragon that awaited. He had no idea her knowledge didn’t come from the Joining.

They moved slow, quiet as they could to enter The Dead Trenches. Nyx could never get over the size of these ancient cities. How much was naturally carved before the dwarves expanded the walls by hand? Besides that, the structures carved of stone had lasted for centuries. Awful to think how the dwarves that built this place were only providing future homes for the darkspawn. Worse to think how many had died trying to protect it, and later, to take it back.

The group crouched over a chasm below, the floor at the bottom full of darkspawn growling and screeching, making all manner of horrifying noises. Up above them was a High Dragon, roaring over the horde. The Archdemon flew, the gust of its wings striking Nyx and her companions in their faces. It landed on the bridge that they would need to take to progress. It spewed violet flames; the spirit magic that proved this was no ordinary dragon.

Nyx had always hated its eyes. She rarely got a good look at them, but when she did they sent a chill through her bones. They were a shiny silvery-white, surrounded by leathery hide that looked too old for its body and rotted in places, giving the beast a ghostly feel. It was good that the Archdemon was far off, for a number of reasons, but this was the first thing to come to Nyx’s mind. The second being the obvious of not needing to fight it unprepared.

It took off again, disappearing into orange mists further into the caves. The horde was beginning to march, following their leader. Nyx hadn’t noticed how badly she’d begun to shake until she started to stand again.

Facing Flemeth and the dragon near Haven was nothing like seeing the real thing. She had reassured herself over and over that they’d beaten it once before, and doing it a second time knowing where the horde intended to go should be much easier. But the Archdemon was not like the concept of a battle. It’s threatening air was enough to tie her stomach in knots. However, that wasn’t all Nyx saw.

“It’s different seeing it up close,” Alistair said, sounding like the air had knocked out of him. “But you knew that already, huh?”

Nyx closed her eyes tight and forced herself to breathe. If she could just stop from shaking…

“You alright?” Hera whispered, coming close.

Nyx nodded forcefully, and found that she believed her lie. Her heart calmed and her hands ceased their trembling. “We need to keep going,” she said. Nyx moved before anyone even had the chance to respond.

The Legion of the Dead members welcomed the group and helped to hold the line at their end of the bridge. Nyx and her companions carved through the ‘spawn that blocked their way, pushing to reach the other side. The Legion joined them when the way was clear, impressed by their mettle and strength. Still, they would stay behind and travel with the Wardens no further. Their duty to keep any darkspawn from closing in on Orzammar came first.

Nyx continued on with barely a word spoken, even to the Legion members. Hera was fed up with this. Nyx had never been chatty, exactly, but this was quiet even for her. What was more, there were no thankful smiles or kind words. Just duty. Nyx had forced a tunnel vision on herself so that she saw nothing other than their goal of reaching the Anvil.

“I can’t believe you,” Hera said as she sidled up to Alistair. “Leliana told me you went all the way to Redcliffe. You knew we needed you!”

“I thought you would be able to wait a few days longer,” Alistair said, tensing defensively. “Artemis wanted to check on the elves, and Sten had his blade…”

“And it was your call to go,” Hera said. “You know she thought you might have died again?”

“No I...I hadn’t thought about that,” Alistair said.

“Do you think of _anything_? If you’d taken just a few hours too long to catch up with us, just another day out doing as you pleased, we all could have died by now.”

“It isn’t my fault!” Alistair shouted.

The whole group stopped at once. Whatever was going on, they were interested. Even Nyx turned towards the two of them, the concern in her eyes bringing life back into her face. Hera would have been pleased if she’d looked over, but she was too busy glaring at Alistair to notice.

Alistair grit his teeth, speaking to the floor. “I didn’t know you would leave before we got back. All I wanted was time away from this.” He was shaking his head, but stopped to lift his gaze to Nyx. She jumped, but the reaction was so slight only she knew that she’d done it.

Hera saw the sudden need to urge everyone away. It wasn’t the best time or place to do this, but if it was going to happen, she needed to let it. Hera shooed those that were behind her back, earning a few noises of disappointment. Lousy eavesdroppers were too curious for their own good.

Wynne was already making her own way towards the rest of the group, but Shale required a bit of a push. Thankfully, not literally, because Shale must have weighed at least two tons. Only Perseus could not be convinced to leave, ever at Nyx’s side.

Alistair waited until most of them had gone, then took a few steps forward so he wasn’t shouting just to speak with Nyx. They were still a good few feet apart, but it was as close as they’d been for many days, then. There was a period of silent staring, awkward blushing, and a bit of fidgeting before Alistair spoke again.

“Do you know why it hurt so much to realize I didn’t really know you?” he said. “You meant so much to me and I told you so much about my life. I understand why you didn’t tell me, but…” Alistair swallowed. “I loved you. Maybe I still do, I don’t know.”

He was rubbing his head, avoiding her eyes. That might have been too much to admit to, even with the uncertainties he voiced. Yet, Alistair had found himself saying it before he could think better of it. He swallowed down nerves and finished by saying, “It was hard not to feel like I’d been betrayed when I thought...I thought you were _everything_.”

Nyx shattered. All the walls she’d been trying to keep up to stay strong were broken with just a few words. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she shook. Her palms collided with her face in an attempt to muffle the sobs that were sure to escape.

Personal space be damned, Nyx _needed_ him. Alistair was in front of her in under a second, taking one of her hands. The leather palms of her gauntlets could not have been very comfortable against her skin. When Nyx let him do this, he held her other hand as well. Whenever Hera did this same thing for her, it was rough, but every touch from Alistair was so careful.

“I’m not...I’m not sure what I did wrong this time,” Alistair said. “I thought that would help but Maker I’ve always been so terrible with words.”

Nyx shook her head violently, her hair flapping against her wet cheeks. “I’m just relieved,” she said hoarsely. “I’m relieved you’re here and you don’t hate me and you’re not _dead_. I was so afraid...so afraid you’d…”

Alistair came even closer, knocking his forehead against hers. Perseus whined, pawing at Alistair to say, “I missed you, too.” Alistair smiled. They stood like that for a few minutes, until Nyx could cry no longer. She backed away, regaining her composure.

“There’s still a lot more I haven’t told you. Some of it is...harder to talk about,” Nyx admitted. “No more lies, though. Not anymore.”

“Glad to hear it,” Alistair said. “But, _maaaybe_ we should hold off on that conversation until we aren’t deep underground in the lair of the darkspawn?”

To her surprise, Nyx was actually able to laugh at that. It was soft and short, but it was real laughter. That alone was nothing short of amazing. “Deal,” Nyx said.

“There is one thing I have to ask though,” Alistair said. Nyx blinked, waiting. “You haven’t told the dwarf yet, have you?”

“No,” Nyx said. “I’ve not been myself lately, which is a poor excuse but… If I tell him he’s going to ask about Branka and I’m not sure I can tell him that…” Her breath hitched, then she released it with a sharp exhale.

“Remind me what happened?” Alistair asked.

Nyx did the best she could to fill him in on what they would face. It was brief, but by the end Alistair was nodding, agreeing that holding off on the news might be good in this case. He felt like a giant hypocrite, but Nyx was right. If Oghren didn’t learn it for himself, first, he might always think Nyx was to blame for how things ended up.

“Is there really no way to save Branka?” Alistair asked.

“The only thing I can think that would keep her from fighting us is if we left the Anvil in tact. But we can’t do that knowing what it means to use it,” Nyx said, her eyes trailing to the side.

“Right,” Alistair said. “I just hate to think we know what’s going to happen and still can’t prevent it.”

Nyx reached for Perseus to rub his head. Alistair’s words were so similar to all that she’d feared from the times she couldn’t stop something. All the way from when she woke up in Highever, there were lives that seemed fated to be lost.

“I’m so sorry,” Nyx said. “Maybe I could have said something to Loghain to stop him. Or to Maric to convince him...something. I should have done something.”

Alistair’s lips parted, though no sound came out. When he finally spoke, it sounded like a weak frog. He cleared his throat so he no longer croaked. “What happened at Ostagar wasn’t your fault. If you really did try to warn Duncan away…” Alistair said, then bit his lip. His eye twitched as he fought to keep himself from crying. They would have to start all over, with Nyx comforting him until he could speak again.

“What I mean to say is, I’m sure you did all you could,” Alistair said. “You may not have known Duncan like I did, but I know you cared for him as well. You’ve said as much, in the past.”

Nyx remained unconvinced, but it was still nice to hear that he no longer blamed her. “When this is over, we will see that Loghain pays for what he did,” Nyx said.

Alistair stood firm, nodding. “We’ll use every advantage we have,” he said.

That was a new concept. Nyx was their advantage. It was a positive way to think of things, and it was true. Nyx knew the nobles better with the knowledge of her Cousland half, but knew the elves and felt strongly for them because of her Dalish half. She would know how to speak with both groups, sway them to their side.

Not only would the Landsmeet be a breeze, but perhaps she could even have some say in Ferelden’s future. Looking at Alistair, Nyx couldn’t think too hard about that just yet. Whether she could convince him to take the crown was a question that still remained. Beyond that, she dared not hope. They stood as allies. That had to be enough.

Perseus ran to get the others and signal them to return. He barked angrily at Hera who, little did they know, had been snooping on Alistair and Nyx while they spoke. It was at least two parts concern, but Hera had to admit that it had also been three parts curiosity. Perseus was scolding her, and Scooby barked twice in agreement with him.

“Traitor,” Hera whispered to her mabari, before kissing him on the head. “Adorable traitor, though.”

Everyone found themselves thankful for the impromptu break they’d been given. The next few rooms had all sorts of trouble. From ogres to Revenants, it seemed like they just kept coming. Shrieks would appear from behind and claw at their backs. Emissaries cast harmful spells that weakened the warriors and made it harder to swing their weapons.

Archers gave them even more trouble, splitting focus between defending from attacks up close and from afar. The only benefit to those was that when they fell, Leliana and Artemis had fresh arrows. Albeit ones that probably carried the taint.

Those with lower moral standards did a little digging in the ancient tombs left behind. They’d already been desecrated by the darkspawn, so they figured, what was a little more? At least what they took, they could put to some good use. The dwarven ghosts would have to understand that.

Nyx recalled some of the placements of traps, sending Leliana or Hera ahead most of the time. Artemis was pretty good with disarming, but not as good as the other two. Zevran, bless his heart, was not. Hera snickered when Nyx whispered this to her.

Yet, as they progressed, there was no escaping the stench of rot and vomit perfuming the air. Many clutched their noses to stop the smell from reaching them, but when they breathed through their mouths they could _taste_ it. They unplugged their nostrils, preferring to just live with the scent than having it linger on their tongues.

When they started to see the source of all those smells, they also started to hear a voice. Nyx held Stargazer tight as she continued forward. She knew what was coming. Nyx turned her head to warn those that didn’t know, but saw Oghren and paused. There was no explaining how she knew this, unless…

Nyx held a hand to her head to emphasize the lie she was about to tell. “I sense a very large darkspawn ahead of us. It seems immobile, but has long tentacles that can shoot out of the ground. And I think it’s some kind of breeder,” Nyx said. Those that she had already told knew what she meant, but the others were left with some confusion.

“You can tell all that just from sensing it?” Oghren said.

“Yes, it’s a Grey Warden thing,” Nyx said quickly, then looked to Alistair for back up.

He was quick to join in, mimicking her little hand motion. “Now that you mention it, I feel it too. It is...very big. And ugly,” Alistair said.

“Heh, good thing we’ve got these two, isn’t it?” Oghren said with a laugh.

Wynne just shook her head at their antics. At least they were getting along.

The mood sobered as the voice became clearer, and they heard Hespith’s story. “ _First day, they come and catch everyone. Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat._ ”

Nyx lead them further, the voice growing louder the closer they drew. “ _Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn. Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams. Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew._ ”

A small group of darkspawn sprang up and attacked. They had to fight again, but still the story echoed through the halls. “ _Eighth day, we hated as she is violated. Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin._ ”

The last of the darkspawn fell. The group stepped into the room where Hespith stood, hunched and with signs that the taint had taken her, body and mind. “ _Now she does feast, as she's become the beast._ ”

“Hespith?” Oghren said, walking up to her. “Ancestors, what happened here? Where’s Branka?”

“I will not speak of her! Of what she did, of what we have become. I will not turn!” Hespith shouted, clutching her head. Before Nyx could say anything to her, Hespith fled. Last time they’d spoken to her longer, but at Branka’s name all she wanted to do was run.

Nyx waved for the group to follow Hespith through the tunnels. “The darkspawn I sensed before is nearby,” she said, a warning for the rest of them to prepare.

They had their weapons out and at the ready. Cronus cast a barrier around his skin in preparation while Wynne drew pieces of the earth around them to her body, held as temporary armor. Everyone knew that Nyx was giving frequent reminders to be cautious with a reason. Whatever they were about to face, it was going to be a difficult battle.

They heard Hespith speaking once more, “ _And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned grey, and she smelled like them. They remade her in their image, then she made more of them._ ” Nyx stepped into the creature’s lair, and knew that none of her descriptions could have illustrated the disgusting nature of the _thing_ in front of her. By the way the others stopped, horror dawning on their faces, she knew they’d been unprepared for this sight.

“ _Broodmother._ ”

They could not simply stand and stare, letting fear reign over their bodies. Nyx tightened her grip on Stargazer and charged, cutting clean through one of the tentacles that wiggled in the air. Oghren and Sten followed her lead, chopping through the mass of writhing appendages sprouting from beneath.

Perseus barked and growled as darkspawn flooded from beyond them to defend the Broodmother. He and Scooby ran ahead, knocking two of the creatures over and ripping their claws into the darkspawns’ faces. Alistair, Hera, and Zevran went to fight these as well, keeping the mabari from harm. Alistair pushed a Shriek and knocked it against a wall to protect Perseus.

Leliana and Artemis agreed to take different targets. While Artemis took on the Broodmother, sinking arrows deep into its thick, fleshy body, Leliana focused on any ’spawn that came from the surrounding areas. Morrigan focused her spirit magic around the Broodmother, trying to cause it great pain to distract it from properly attacking the three warriors still slinging away at the tentacles. Wynne strengthened those three, giving them a boost of energy to put more power behind each swing.

Cronus, however, saw the number of darkspawn beginning to surround them, and decided he’d had enough of these games. He summoned up stormclouds, their dark forms crackling with electricity, and let the lightning strike wildly. This magic was less predictable than other forms, choosing targets at random like they’d truly been caught in a thunderstorm.

A number of darkspawn fell to this, but lightning also struck a few of his allies. Nyx felt a painful jolt run through her, the metal of her blade and armor making her a conductor. The same happened to Sten and Oghren beside her. They now had to dodge an ally’s attack as well as continue their fight. She was only glad when she stole a glance and saw that Alistair was out of range of Cronus’ magic.

Shale ran through the storm, unaffected by the lightning as it struck his stone body, and threw a fist of ice to slam into the Broodmother’s engorged stomach. He struck the beast again before one of the tentacles attached to the Broodmother’s back smacked Shale away. In its desperation, the massive darkspawn had failed to realize that Shale would thus slam into and crush another one of its appendages. It screamed.

Nyx filled with cautious optimism. With most of the tentacles gone, the Broodmother was more open to attacks. The ones on its back could knock them back, but with enough attention paid to its movement, one could predict where it would swing and dodge without too much difficulty. Nyx ran forward, bringing Stargazer down across the Broodmother’s flesh.

Cronus’ lightning dissipated, leaving him breathing heavily. A spell of that magnitude took a lot of energy to maintain, and they’d already been fighting for hours to get through the Deep Roads. He drew his sword, icing the blade so that it would sting with cold, and reeled around just in time to clash with a Hurlock. The darkspawn pushed him back, but Cronus kept on his feet. He met another blow, then managed to strike when it was open to his attack.

But the victory was short-lived, with more darkspawn rushing in to attack. Cronus used a spell he’d seen Morrigan do many times before to blast them backwards. He just needed to buy a second of time to get Artemis’ attention. Of course, he still didn’t fucking know her _name_.

Cronus grabbed Artemis’ arm, which made her stumble back, her arrow flying off course and striking Sten’s arm. The Qunari cringed in pain, pausing his attack to snap the end of the arrow with his fist. He glared back at Artemis, but redirected the look to Cronus when he figured out what had happened. Still, Sten ran to back them up.

“ _Parshaara,_ we must finish this!” he shouted.

Artemis was nodding in agreement, though she glanced at the blood that dripped slowly from his arm. She drew her bow, aiming with purpose at the darkspawn. Cronus stepped forward, Sten just a few paces ahead, and met the enemy blades with his own.

Nyx had heard Sten’s cry earlier, and couldn’t agree more. The Broodmother was weak, but as long as it lived more darkspawn would come to her aid. Nyx needed a way to reach a weak spot. She eyed the great beast’s neck, thinking it an appropriate place to sink her blade into.

Nyx whipped her head around to Wynne, calling the mage’s name. Wynne was trying to heal Oghren, who had been laid flat while Nyx was distracted. Nyx ran to them, checking that Oghren was alright before asking for assistance. Wynne approved of the plan.

“I can manage that,” she said. “You just make sure you don’t miss, now.”

“That’s the idea,” Nyx said.

With Oghren functioning again, he decided he wanted to serve as the distraction. Nyx couldn’t have stopped him even if she’d been given the time to try. It did help, at least.

Wynne pointed her staff at the ground, and with great effort, rose a platform up. Nyx started into a run, more of the floating cylinders of earth rising to form a functioning staircase. She leapt off of the very last one, Stargazer flashing bright in the Broodmother’s eyes before Nyx buried her sword under the thick flab of the creature’s neck.

Most of the darkspawn in the room screamed with rage, their mother unable to make such a noise as it choked on its own blood. Lost to their anger, they attacked with more ferocity, but less care, which made it easier for the more skilled members of Nyx’s group to dispatch them. Within two more minutes, they were bruised, bloodied, and sore, but stood victorious over the monsters.

Nyx pushed her feet against the Broodmother’s sagging flesh and pulled her sword out. She fell backwards gracelessly, landing hard on the ground. Groaning in pain, she sat up as Hespith reappeared, emerging from her hiding place.

“That’s where they come from,” she said, still wringing her hands. “That’s why they hate us...that’s why they need us. That’s why they take us...that’s why they feed us. But the true abomination is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka…” her voice dropped to a whisper, “...my love.”

Nyx watched for Oghren’s reaction. Between the shock of the things surrounding him, this appeared to be small news in comparison. Still, Nyx recognized the look of betrayal, having seen it so often for herself. Whether this was from the news that Branka had let her people become these dark creatures or that she’d taken a lover, Nyx couldn’t tell. It could have been both.

“The Stone has punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death,” Hespith said. Again, she whispered the last word, “ _Betrayal._ ”

With that, Hespith left them, surely to die. Nyx would make no attempts to stop this, as the woman was—in many ways—already dead. She stood, the ache in her back making movement a bit difficult for now. Need kept her going. The Anvil and Caridin were just ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting there. Baaaaaby steps.
> 
> And can I just say, if they don't bring back Broodmothers, that's a missed opportunity, because those were the only things that managed to chill me to the frickin bone. Those things are creepy as hell!


	25. Reunion

Though she had known to expect the barricade to trap them in Caridin’s series of tests, Nyx still jumped and turned to look back at the great big metal wall. What she could not have anticipated, however, was that it had erected in such a way that five of her companions were stuck behind it. Branka had not done this before.

Hera was already pounding her firsts on the wall, shouting over it. “Zev! Leliana! Are you guys okay?” she called. “Sten? Morrigan? _Wynne?!_ ”

“Your friends will not come to harm unless you fail,” Branka said. She stood over them, on a path that overlooked the whole area. Contrasted with their panic was her eerie calm, hands clasped behind her back like a commander about to give orders to her soldiers. “Let me be blunt. After all this time my tolerance for social graces is fairly limited.”

“Well shave my back and call me an elf! Branka?” Oghren shouted, spreading his arms wide. “By the Stone, I barely recognize you!”

“It figures you’d eventually find your way here. Hopefully you can find your way back more easily,” Branka said. Nyx dipped her head low. Perhaps it would have been better to warn him, after all. These words had to cut deep.

Branka addressed Nyx next, and Oghren was quick to come to her defense. He had always been quick to loyalty. Branka didn’t seem to care that there were Grey Wardens in her presence. Anyone with a capable mind and a blade would do for the task ahead (or arrows or magic, as it were). She didn’t care for the political reasons of their involvement either, although Branka remained curious enough to ask. All she wanted was the Anvil.

Branka’s obsession was clear as day. She did not even bother to deny that she’d sacrificed lives of the people of her House just to see her goals achieved. Branka gave an ultimatum, though one they had no chance to argue against, given that they were trapped. Either they helped her get the Anvil of the Void, or she didn’t lend her support for the man they would put forward as king.

“What has this place done to you?!” Oghren said. “I remember a girl you could talk to for _one minute_ and see her brilliance.” He had truly loved her. Nyx stopped doubting her previous decision. He had to know for himself that Branka was already lost to him. It was the only way he could let go to make peace with what they would need to do.

“I am your Paragon,” Branka said with narrowed eyes. Then she turned, leaving them to the mercy of the trials.

The first was nothing new. Wave after wave of darkspawn came for them, gnashing their teeth and letting out ugly roars. The warriors stood in the first push, with Hera, Shale, and the mabari to pick up any of their slack. Artemis found a decent vantage point atop a mountain of trash, thankful that she didn’t need to stand atop the many dead bodies littering the floor.

Cronus wielded his staff instead of his blade for now, remaining at a distance. After the battle with the Broodmother, he’d been lectured on taking only necessary and calculated risks. Nyx’s armor was still charred from the lightning bolts, her skin beneath painless but still bearing burn marks. Without the other mages, it was on him to defend and heal. Cronus gave only a rare glance back to the metal wall. He had to believe that Branka had been truthful about Morrigan’s safety.

Nyx gave heavy breaths with each time she lifted her sword. She put weight into her attacks, trying to take out as many darkspawn as she could in one chance. She knew full well it would be better to pace herself, but she was just as nervous as the others were that those left behind could be in danger. Perhaps they would be able to handle themselves, but Nyx didn’t want to take that risk.

By the time the last ogre fell, Nyx struggled to breathe. She leaned a hand against a wall, closing her eyes for a moment. The clang of armor announced someone’s presence beside her.

“You alright?” Alistair asked.

Nyx forced a nod, unable to speak while she tried to fill her lungs with enough air.

“Something’s wrong,” Alistair said.

Nyx fixed her posture. “It wasn’t like this before. She never split us up.”

“And you’ve no idea what’s changed?”

“Not a clue,” Nyx said. “There have been other things, little ones, inconsequential changes. This is...I’ve no idea what to make of this.”

“We do what we must,” Alistair said. “And meet back with them when we’re done.”

It was all they could do. The next test was one that had given her a lot of trouble before. In the green haze, it was difficult to see that there were levers on the walls, but those were what they needed. The poison in the room filled her nose and mouth within seconds, choking her. She coughed, pointing ahead of her to the walls where the four switches were located. If they hit all of them, the gas would vent out of the room so they could breathe.

Easier said than done, as four golems would rise to attack as they tried to reach the switches. One at a time, thankfully, because those things were tough. Shale immediately ended up grappling with the first, with Hera and Artemis bolting through the fog to reach the levers. They were the two quickest among those present, save perhaps for Perseus and Scooby.

As the girls reached the switches, another golem rose. Teamwork would be the name of the game here. Cronus cast spells of ice, aiming them at the crystals. Morrigan had told him about their battle against the golems in earlier caverns, and figured the same strategy should apply here. When Stargazer struck the crystals on its arms, Cronus found that he’d been correct.

Artemis lent backup to Shale, who was still fighting a golem all on his own. Her arrows could only strike so many crystals at once, rather than taking out larger clusters. Still, it helped to weaken the golem.

As the first fell, a third one rose. Hera twisted around to strike this one, doing the best she could against it. Artemis was adjusting her aim and Nyx switched her target, running to give her friend some much needed backup.

“ _Ma serannas!_ ” Hera shouted as Nyx’s blade crashed against the golem’s arm.

“Clear the way!” Shale called from afar. The girls saw why just in time to leap to the side, avoiding the giant boulder Shale flung at the enemy golem. Alistair, Oghren, and Cronus had finished the second golem, leaving just one more to defeat.

With all their attacks focused, this one went easy. Perseus and Scooby ran around it, barking to get the golem’s attention, before Oghren and Nyx ganged up and struck its shoulders. The golem couldn’t move fast enough to get to them before Cronus froze over its right arm. The spot was vulnerable enough for Artemis to break it into pieces with just one well-placed arrow.

Oghren got the final blow. His axe collided with the last set of crystals and the glowing orbs that sat in place of the stone creature’s eyes lost their light before it fell. Perseus barked proudly, looking for a bit of praise for his hard work.

“You did wonderfully, Percy,” Nyx said, leaning down to ruffle his ears.

“What about me?” Oghren demanded.

“I could scratch behind your ears, if you’d like,” Alistair offered with a grin.

Oghren grunted. “You’re not a pretty woman.”

Nyx and Alistair shared a glance, looking away from one another quickly. This was usually where one of them would add a flirtatious comment or another joke. They weren’t quite there yet, but Nyx did have one on the tip of her tongue.

The next test provided more of the same, four golems standing in the room waiting to be activated. The only twist was that in the center of the room were two traps that would release spinning blades were any of them to step on the pressure plates. Hera noticed this, pulling Nyx back before she got too close.

“Forgot about something?” Hera said, pointing to the spot that was obvious in her eyes.

Nyx had to squint to see it. “Oh! Yes, I guess I must have,” she said. “Artemis, disarm this one. Hera, check ahead to make sure there aren’t any more traps.”

Artemis slid a knife on her belt in the small gap to the right of the trap, deactivating the mechanism to spring it on them. Hera spotted the second pressure plate, but as she kneeled down in front of it, a golem cracked its arms into motion. Thank the Maker those creatures were so loud, otherwise Hera might not have noticed in time to back away.

With her timing, she’d actually lured the golem into stepping on the still active trap. The blades sprung up and chipped away at its stone body. Hera smiled at her luck while Artemis rose with an arrow prepped for fire.

A second golem started to move on the other side of the room. Nyx sent Oghren and Shale to support Hera, choosing to stay and fight this one herself. Alistair readied his sword and shield beside her. They rushed the golem together, dodging a thrown boulder by ducking under its trajectory. Nyx struck the right arm, while Alistair hit the left.

The golem roared with rage, swinging a fist at Nyx. It collided against her armor, sending her back a few feet. It had dented the metal, pressing uncomfortably against her side. It might not have been as bad if it wasn’t also pressing into her burns, returning the painful sensation from earlier to her tender skin.

Nyx hissed at this, but did not let it stop her. Cronus iced over more of the crystals and Alistair was ready to shatter them. Nyx saw that the others were just about done with their golem, and Artemis was twisting around to help Alistair. A third golem rose as the second fell. Then a fourth.

They were coming to life quicker than the group could fight against them. Nyx called to Artemis, “Pull back!”

Artemis moved just in time, but Cronus missed this warning and a large rock knocked him back. His arm bent unnaturally. He screamed.

Nyx had to work fast. She helped Alistair to smash the last of the crystals, then hurried to Cronus’ side, throwing her arm down to lift him. He yelled out again, cursing as Nyx forced him to stand. She needed Cronus out of harm’s way. She would never forgive herself if…

Another cry of pain came from the other side of the room. Hera’s face was bloodied and bruised. It was entirely possible her nose had been broken, if not worse. She’d tried to take on the golem that charged at them all on her own. Scooby growled, leaping to clamp his teeth around the crystals on its arm. He managed to cause the slightest of fissures before the golem shook him off.

“Leave my dog the fuck alone!” Hera shrieked, swinging her daggers and smashing straight through these crystals. The golem readied another heavy punch, but Hera was pissed and now hyper-aware. The rage gave her clarity, sliding under the blow to make one of her own. Hera crushed half of the gems here, then rolled backwards and watched Artemis’ arrow punch through the rest.

Nyx set Cronus down and ran to the fourth golem. She kept her mind sharp and her aim true. Stargazer proved its might again and again, its blade never chipping against the hard stone. At worst its edge dulled slightly, and that was easy enough to sharpen.

Alistair aided her against the golem. They couldn’t receive any help from Cronus yet, who was desperately trying to push his bone back in place before he could heal it. Every few seconds they’d hear another cry of pain from him.

Artemis fired arrows as fast as she could manage, striking one golem, twisting to strike another, then turning again. She was growing dizzy from the constant movement. When she reached behind her and found no arrows in her quiver, she panicked. Artemis couldn’t run up and pick up the arrows—whichever ones had managed not to break—from the floor without putting herself in proximity with one of the golems. She felt indebted to help, but could do nothing without risking her life.

Thankfully, the job was done soon after that. Oghren had a dent in his armor like Nyx had received, and Scooby limped slightly as he rejoined Hera. Perseus ran to Nyx, whining as he noticed her wince in pain.

“I’m alright boy, don’t you fret,” she whispered, getting down on his level. “Cronus and Hera need more help than I do. Run this potion over to her for me?” Nyx put a potion in his mouth to carry, and he ran dutifully to make his delivery.

Nyx exhaled, and went to Cronus. “Is it set?” she asked.

“No,” he said under his breath. “I couldn’t… _fuck!_ ” Cronus hissed again.

“Hold still, and let me…” Nyx said.

“Fine, fine, just do it already!” Cronus shouted.

Nyx didn’t take it personally. He was already ornery when he wasn’t in excruciating pain. A little shouting and some expletives wasn’t going to kill her, but it might just help Cronus feel better. She pushed the bone in place and he screamed, back pushing hard against the wall he’d leaned on.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Nyx said, raising her hands and backing away.

“It’s...fine. You did what you needed, now let me heal it,” Cronus said through grit teeth. Nyx let him be, after that.

Hera had given the potion Perseus offered to Scooby. She whipped out a cloth to blot the blood draining fast from her face. Each touch stung, even when she wetted the rag to make it a softer. A jolt ran through her when she touched the side of her nose. Definitely broken.

“Ahh, Andraste’s sagging tits!” Hera said. Scooby moped, leaning his head against her legs. “Sorry you had to hear that sort of language, boy.”

Nyx noticed the clearly-not-Dalish-ism, but Oghren seemed oblivious. He wasn’t too attentive to the differences between humans and elves. They could tell him the People danced around the forests naked and sang songs and he’d believe them. Actually, Oghren would probably ask to watch.

Cronus finished with his arm, the bone mended, but a circle of bruises still rimmed his skin. Another patch of purple and sickly yellow bloomed on his side, which he was able to shrink, but not without wasting all of his mana. And judging by the way Hera was going on, he needed to spare a little for her.

“If I manage to become lyrium addled like one of those bleeding templars, I’m blaming you lot for being lousy protectors,” Cronus said as he hovered his hands over Hera’s nose. “I’m going to try and recenter your _beak_ now.”

“Don’t give me an excuse to stab you. It’s tempting enough already,” Hera said. The anger did distract from a little bit of the pain when he pushed her nose back into place. She still screamed, though.

“Please don’t stab our healer,” Alistair said. “Until Wynne is back with us, it’s unadvisable at best. Poke his bruises if you want, though.”

“Bruises you say?” Hera said with a wicked grin.

Artemis was busy plucking the non-broken arrows from the ground while Cronus and Hera antagonized one another. She stared, perplexed at their ability to goof off under the circumstances. Artemis bit her lips, and knew it wasn’t a bad idea to fool around while they had a chance. It would keep her mind off of worrying about Leliana, and the other two from thinking of their own lovers. Awkward as Nyx and Alistair were, at least they could stand next to one another.

The last trial was a complete pain in the ass. Nyx said as much as she directed them around. Kill a ghost, touch an anvil. Kill a ghost, touch an anvil. Wait for the thing to turn, and start all over again until all four faces on the structure were inactive. Oghren raised a brow, but Nyx quickly claimed to have deciphered some text on the walls of the last chamber. His gullibility was beneficial, for the moment.

They worked as a unit, and had this test done faster than any other. Perseus barked happily. This was the last one. The Anvil of the Void was just within their reach, and next to it, Caridin. Nyx rolled her shoulders. Whatever conclusion Oghren came to, the Anvil had to be destroyed, and Branka would have to die. She was too far gone. Nyx still hurt to think of how fondly Oghren spoke of his estranged wife.

The group stepped forward, and faced Caridin in the body of a metal golem. He sparked with electricity as he spoke, “My name is Caridin. Once, longer ago than I care to think, I was a Paragon to the dwarves of Orzammar.”

“Caridin? The Paragon smith? Alive?” Shale questioned. Nyx realized she’d forgotten to mention this to her golem friend. She’d been focused on the whole part about Branka and the Anvil, she’d skipped over a few key details.

“Ah, there is a voice I recognize. Shayle of the House of Cadash, step forward,” Caridin said.

Nyx blinked in confusion. This was new. She supposed she hadn’t brought Shale along before, though Nyx couldn’t remember the reason. Caridin knew him. Which meant the Paragon might also know something of Shale’s past.

“You...know my name? Is it you that forged me, then? Is it you that gave me my name?” Shale asked.

Nyx bit her lip, shrinking visibly. How much had she forgotten to mention? Maybe Shale wouldn’t be mad.

“I made you into the golem you are now, Shayle, but before that you were a dwarf...just as I was. The finest warrior to serve King Valtor, and the only woman to volunteer,” Caridin said.

Nyx’s eyes went wide. “ _Woman?_ ” she said. Many of the others looked at her.

“It did not know this either?” Shale said, glowing eyes staring Nyx down.

Nyx shook her head. “I never...you weren’t here before.”

“What are the two of you going on about?” Oghren said.

Caridin had to regain their attention, making a metallic sound like he was clearing the throat he no longer possessed. “If you seek the Anvil, then you must care about my story, or be doomed to relive it. The Anvil of the Void allows me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one the cost.”

Caridin explained that he took the souls of dwarves to place in his creations, unable to make life out of nothing. At first, the golems were created only from volunteers, but as the King’s demand for power grew, the unwilling were used. When Caridin refused, his fate was sealed, and his soul became trapped in a body of metal. His luck had not completely run out, as his apprentices were unable to fashion a control rod.

“I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil, to prevent further loss of life. Alas, I cannot do it myself. No golem can touch it,” Caridin said.

“No!” screamed Branka as she ran towards them. “The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me!”

“Shayle, you fought to destroy the Anvil once. Do not allow it to fall into unthinking hands again!” Caridin urged.

“You speak of things I do not remember. You say we fought...did you use our control rods to command us to do so?” Shale said.

“I destroyed the rods! Perhaps my apprentices eventually learned how to replace them, I do not know, but if so, then all they need is the Anvil to make all the slaves they need!” Caridin said. _Slaves._ It was a true enough descriptor, and made everyone’s stomachs drop when spoken. Caridin turned to face Nyx. “Please, help me destroy the Anvil! Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has.”

“We will not allow anyone else to use it,” Nyx said. “But we will need your help to support the future king of Orzammar, as Paragon.”

“Don’t listen! He’s been trapped for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness. I can give you an army unlike any other. Help me take the Anvil!” Branka shouted.

“Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail. Does this thing mean so much to you that you can’t even see what you’ve lost to get it?” Oghren said. Nyx should have given him more credit. When faced with the truth, he knew what was right.

“Look around. Is this what our empire should look like? A crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn spume? The Anvil will let us take back our glory!” Branka argued.

“The Anvil would cause your empire to _lose_ its glory,” Nyx said, turning. “What point is taking back lands if you are sacrificing the lives of the people you meant to give it to?”

“Easy for a human to say, when you’ve conquered the surface for yourselves and pushed out anyone who would threaten your power. You’ve no idea what we’ve lost! I will not let you take this chance from us,” Branka said. “Caridin is not the only master smith. Golems, obey me! Attack!”

Nyx didn’t have the chance to tell Branka that she did very much understand what was lost. Not that it would have mattered to the mad dwarf. Caridin begged for help, and Nyx offered it willingly.

With more golems on their side, it made this battle slightly easier, though Branka provided a challenge of her own. She was quick and slippery, with two blades that matched her height. Nyx knew she was too slow in her armor to face off against Branka, and sent Hera and Artemis to take her down. Scooby joined Hera’s side, and ran at Branka to bite her leg.

The others took a golem each, except for Cronus, with a golem at their sides as well. Caridin stood with Nyx as they cracked pieces off of the attacking golem. She was used to fighting these things by then, moving before she was hit, striking before they could move. Caridin’s stronger steel body gave him the advantage over his stone counterpart, the enemy golem’s body crumbling with each time Caridin threw a fist.

Branka struggled against Hera, who matched her in speed and outdid her in tactics. All the training with Zevran—the non-euphemism kind—had paid off. Hera was merciless as she swiped her daggers in the chinks of Branka’s armor. With her height, it was a bit of a disadvantage, as Branka could easily cut up Hera’s legs, but Hera had accounted for that in advance.

She slid in, body crouched, got in a few hits, then moved back to dodge. Hera did get a few wounds, but nothing so major that she needed to stop. Apparently, Cronus was watching her fight, prepped with healing spells in between attacks of ice aimed at the enemy golems. Artemis was also a great help, dividing Branka’s attention and punching arrows through her armor.

Branka died with a scream still in her throat. Oghren had turned instinctively, to protect the woman he once loved dearly, and saw her fall. Hera was not proud of this graceless death, but knew it had to be done. Nyx had said as much, and Branka had proven it in her insanity.

Any golems that still fought against them stopped as soon as Branka was down, their orders invalidated when the holder of their control rod perished. Nyx was glad to see that the battle was short, and without the pains of earlier fights. This just left Oghren heartbroken. Nyx would do what she could to help mend it.

“Another life lost because of my invention,” Caridin mourned. “I wish no mention of it had made it into history.”

“Yeah, you aren’t kidding!” Oghren said, placing his axe on his back. “Stupid woman. Always knew the Anvil would kill her.”

“I’m sorry, Oghren. I wish there had been a way to save her,” Nyx said.

“Don’t apologize Warden,” Oghren grunted. “Branka made her choice ages ago. I doubt anything could have stopped her.”

Shale and Caridin spoke again, letting _her_ know all there was to tell. He mentioned Cadash Thaig, and told Shale that if she wanted more answers, that would be a good place to search. Nyx remembered the thaig, all the way back from when she’d gone there with Finn and Ariane. She smiled a little, and hoped those two were well. With luck, they would still have the chance to meet one another in the future.

“But at least it ends here. I thank you for standing with me, stranger. The Anvil waits there for you to shatter it,” Caridin said. “Is there any boon I can grant you for your aid? A final favor before I am freed from my burden?”

“Would you be able to smith a crown?” Nyx said.

Oghren chuckled. “Feeling royal now, eh Warden?”

“Not for _me_ ,” Nyx insisted. “For Bhelen. With the seal of your house we could convince the Assembly that a Paragon has offered to support him as King.”

“If this is what you wish, I shall put hammer to steel one last time. Give your crown to whomever you wish,” Caridin said. A thousand-or-so years in a lost thaig doesn’t leave one very interested in politics.

Caridin constructed the crown as promised. Nyx would carry it back to give to Bhelen. She was looking forward to leaving Orzammar at last. She just had to not think too hard about what would follow.

For the moment, Hera held the crown, while Nyx stepped forward to the Anvil. She lifted the hammer that lay next to it over her head, only to bring it crashing down over the enchanted steel. It cracked into pieces with just one hit. Amazing, considering the Paragon smith himself had hammered away at it moments ago. The best explanation Nyx could think of was that it sensed her intent and did as she’d willed. The Anvil was magic, after all.

Caridin moved to the ledge, standing over the river of lava. “You have my eternal thanks, stranger. _Atrast nal tunsha…_ may you always find your way in the dark,” Caridin said. Then, he fell. Nyx had cried last time she watched him go. This time, her eyes remained dry, knowing this was his chance to be free.

♢♢♢♢♢

“Found it!” Hera called. She pulled a lever, and the mechanism churned as it lifted the metal wall that split the group apart. Then, Hera leapt down from the cliffside where Branka had stood earlier, and broke into a sprint. She collided with Zevran, kissing him fiercely and ignoring the remnants of pain in her nose.

When they finally broke the kiss, Zevran said, breathless, “My, it is good to be missed. Care to miss me again later tonight?”

Hera smirked. She had nothing to say to that but to agree, so she conveyed the message with another kiss.

Artemis was the next to hurry over, throwing her arms around Leliana. They shared just a few chaste kisses, then bumped their foreheads together and whispered to one another. As far as they were concerned, this moment was just for them.

Cronus did not run, but walked calmly towards Morrigan. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers first. To Nyx, this was some of the most impressive magic the mage had ever worked, as Morrigan actually blushed at his touch. Morrigan grabbed his face and pulled him in to take his lips. Now it was Nyx who had pink on her cheeks.

She lowered her eyes, staring at the gold crown in her hands. “W-we should hurry back to Orzammar,” Nyx said. “Bhelen will want...we should go.”

“Right,” Alistair said, a little too quickly.

Oghren snorted. “By the way you act, I’d say there’s some sexual tension that needs some—ehehe— _attention_.”

Nyx marched forward before anything more embarrassing could happen, screaming internally as she went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done with the Deep Roads! ...sort of. _Almost_ done, though. Thank the Maker.


	26. Progress is Progress

If Nyx had been in better shape, Hera would not have volunteered to go back into the Deep Roads with Shale and a few others. Nyx was a Warden and could sense darkspawn before they even got there. She would have a much easier time of this, but Hera knew Nyx needed time to recover.

Hera would not let Alistair leave Nyx behind again, either. No matter what was going on in that head of his, he needed to stay with her and figure it out. So for the time being, they were Warden-less.

“Any of this look familiar to you?” Hera asked, looking over at Shale. There was no way to read her expressions, her face forever stony. The way the place left her somewhat speechless for a moment, however, told Hera everything.

“Yes, this is Cadash Thaig,” Shale said.

“Let’s see what we can find then,” Hera said. She was getting pretty used to this leader thing. She still didn’t want to do it all the time. The stress of being in charge was just too much, but it was a fun power trip for one measly mission into the Deep Roads. Hera believed, however, that Nyx was better suited for it. She just needed to be more mentally stable than she’d been of late.

Darkspawn showed up to no one’s surprise, but after fighting loads of golems a few days ago, these were a piece of cake. Hera stabbed, they died. Zevran sliced, they died. Shale punched, they died. Morrigan and Cronus did...magic something-or-other, and more darkspawn ended up dead. Scooby would sometimes contribute something to the mix, if he felt the need. With how loud some of the Hurlocks growled, they didn’t even need a Warden to warn them.

“You know, I think I might have overestimated the necessity of the Grey Wardens,” Hera said.

Morrigan scoffed, but Hera didn’t notice. Cronus gave her a questioning look, but Morrigan shook her head. If things turned out like she suspected they would, he’d know eventually.

“Did Nyx not mention something important about them? Something to do with the Archdemon?” Zevran said.

“She says a lot of things,” Hera said.

“Many of them true,” Zevran said, smiling smugly.

“And some of them incredibly vague,” Hera said, bumping him with her hip. “There’s a lot she hasn’t told us. And apparently there’s things not even _she_ knows.”

“I assume it is referring to me,” Shale said. She had been examining some of the structures for clues as to what they ought to look for. Perhaps even a memory would surface, she thought, as she stared at the carvings on the broken down buildings. Alas, there had been nothing yet.

“You are the first that comes to mind,” Hera said. “But there may be other things. Considering the way she lived after the Blight, there could have been some other massive crisis that she just missed entirely. She can’t see the future, Nyx just...knows her own past. Which happens to be partially in our future.” Hera noted the confused expression on Zevran’s face. “I try not to think about it too hard.”

They continued moving further into the thaig, fighting darkspawn as they went. The increased number of darkspawn could make the battles tricky, at times. Shale would draw the attention of the ’spawn with a loud bellow, and the ugly beasties would come running. Which left them open for Hera and Zevran to sneak attack.

Scooby preferred fighting some of the deep stalkers that appeared or even the brontos. At least those he could bite without fear of getting sick. Still, when he was needed, his claws were enough to tear into a Genlock.

Morrigan liked to take care of enemy mages, whereas Cronus would switch around. If there were just a lot of them, he’d cast area spells at a distance, with more care about who got hit than before. If there weren’t too many, he might run up with his blade coated in ice. If the battle got difficult or they faced a powerful enemy, Cronus filled the position of healer. He was multi-talented, and thus multi-purpose. An all around useful mage. If they could only do something about the personality.

“Do you think Alistair blames her?” Hera asked suddenly.

“You’re going to need to fill me in, my dear,” Zevran said. “You know I can’t read minds. Though, that does not mean I’ve never tried.”

“For Bhelen, I mean,” Hera said.

“Ah, yes, that,” Zevran said. “That was also something she had not known. It seems silly to blame Nyx for what she did not know.”

“He might do it anyway,” Hera said, prickling. She groaned. “Which begs the question, why do I _care?!”_

“I thought you knew?” Cronus commented, getting closer.

“There are theories,” Hera said, “many of them. But nothing satisfying enough for reason.”

“Perhaps you do not need it to make sense. Matters of the heart rarely do,” Zevran said. There was a moment of silence, before Zev decided to add, “Which is...exactly why I avoid them.”

Hera would not put voice to what she thought about that.

Caring for Nyx and being her friend...sister...whatever was one matter, but the way she’d been feeling about Zevran was not something she was ready to think about. Ever since the night she first told him her secret, she knew there was something she would need to figure out, but Hera never gave herself long enough alone in the quiet to dwell on it. If she did, the resulting conclusions could be dangerous. Hera wouldn’t give her heart the power to ruin all that she had.

Fighting an ogre was something to put her mind off of it. This was a little more difficult, noting the size of the beast, but they charged forward anyway. Hera found herself wishing she had a strategy besides “kill it!” Nothing particular came to mind. Somehow, they managed, but Cronus definitely needed to focus on the healing side of his magical talents that time.

Where they fought the ogre, there was also a monument to the dwarves that volunteered themselves to be put into golems. Shale saw her name, spelled “Shayle” in the carving, and saw that it was just as Caridin had said. She was truly of house Cadash. Shale had a whole history, a family, a life as a dwarf. She might have smiled if she could have.

Shale decided to think about what she’d discovered alone for a bit, which meant they were heading back out of the Deep Roads. As far as Hera was concerned, it was none too soon. There was still a lot left to do before the Blight would end.

♢♢♢♢♢

Alistair sipped at his cup of tea, making sure to remember which one it was, before he realized the problem with having double-fisted teacups. Knocking was difficult. Unless he could suddenly grow a third hand—which he didn’t want to do even if he could—he’d have to either use his head or his foot. Or just do what Alistair ended up doing, which was shouting.

“Nyx?! You in there?” he called. The stone would have hurt to knock on anyway. The whole thing seemed like impractical architecture to him, but Alistair guessed if he’d been born a dwarf he’d feel much differently. He also wouldn’t feel the need to shave so often, which would be a nice bonus.

Nyx appeared at the door a few moments later, staring at Alistair like she thought she was hallucinating. He held out the cup that he hadn’t been drinking from. “I heard you had dinner in here again, and thought you might want some tea,” Alistair said. The second part explained itself, of course, but he needed to say something. At least he hadn’t stumbled over his words. If he had, Alistair might have felt the need to flee the country.

“Thank you,” Nyx said. She was quieter, like she had been since Haven. She put her hands around the cup, careful not to burn her fingers.

“Would you mind...if I came in?” Alistair asked.

Nyx looked at him again with those large eyes of hers, but shook her head. “Not at all,” she said. With eyes like those, he could easily believe she’d been elven. Alistair tried to summon up the image of the Dalish Nyx that appeared in the Gauntlet, to picture more differences between the two versions.

Alistair closed the door behind him, then stood still, wondering where to go. There were chairs and tables, as Nyx had been given a larger suite for her role as leader, but he wasn’t sure he should sit. Standing was probably more awkward, but was sitting too familiar? Like he was comfortable? Should he have been trying to look uncomfortable?

“Um, you can sit down, if you’d like,” Nyx said.

_Thank Andraste._ Alistair found a chair near hers and settled into it, but not too much. “I thought you might want to talk about what happened,” Alistair said. “You looked really upset by it.”

Nyx twitched, then sipped her tea. “I didn’t know that he would...I should have expected it but I guess I was optimistic,” she said, staring as the leaves resettled at the bottom of the cup.

Alistair sat in silence. He wasn’t sure what comfort he could offer, in truth. When Bhelen had taken the crown, they were relieved that the struggles seemed over. Until the new King opened his mouth, and called for Harrowmont to be executed. Nyx had nearly screamed in horror, but it came out as a squeaking exhale instead.

She had even gone so far as to implore him to consider simply letting Harrowmont be a _living_ example of what dissent from the crown looked like. Torture him, parade him around the streets, lock him up for life, just don’t _kill_ the man. King Bhelen would hear none of it.

“You’ve never ruled a kingdom, Warden,” Bhelen had said. “So long as the usurper lives, people can rally in his name. Locking him up would give his supporters reason to free him. I am only doing what I must for the good of Orzammar, my people.”

That was the sort of man Nyx had chosen to crown as king, for the sake of progress. Her mind kept wandering back to the idea of the Maker’s scale, weighing good against bad. If Orzammar’s benefits were large enough, maybe this was justified. That didn’t mean it didn’t make Nyx sick to know she’d condemned a man to death.

“I’m sorry,” was all Alistair could think to say, at first. When he did, he got that same confused look from Nyx, but this time it was followed by the smallest smile. While she sipped her tea, Alistair figured out the rest of the things he wanted to say. “You had good intentions. Bhelen just isn’t very stable. Only time will tell if you made the right call on this one.”

“I’ve gotten...used to knowing the answer to everything,” Nyx admitted. “I took a chance with this one, but what if it turns out being _worse_ than before?” Nyx took a shaking breath in. “I thought that...saving lives would be my atonement.”

Alistair paused and drank his tea. “For Hera?” he said.

“Mostly,” Nyx said.

They sat in silence, the steam of their drinks rising. Nyx drank and drank until there was just a dribble and some tea leaves dancing at the bottom of the cup. She stared at the pattern they left as they stuck to the sides, then placed the teacup down on the table beside her. Nyx smoothed down her hair, still messy as ever and starting to become longer than she liked.

“I think I should get some sleep,” Nyx said. And she did think that, even though it seemed an easy excuse to get the room to herself again.

“Right,” Alistair said, his voice soft. “I’ll take my leave, then. Uh, sleep well?” He had no idea why this was a question, but his voice lifted before he could stop it.

“I will,” Nyx said. “Goodnight.” Perhaps tonight, she finally would get some proper rest. It had been long enough, and that tea with just a little bit of honey had relaxed her enough to feel tired.

Alistair took her empty cup, walking out with a whispered, “Goodnight,” back at her. The stone door seemed to have grown even heavier, somehow. It closed with a decisive thud.

Whatever her insecurities, Nyx already had her armies. She’d even gained the respect of the Legion of the Dead enough to see them go to the surface and fight at her side. Alistair couldn’t help but be impressed by the power of sheer magnetism she wielded. He had fallen victim to it, if victim was the right word to go with.

Alistair ran into Hera as he went to return the teacups to the dwarven servants who knew where to take them. She eyed the two cups in his hands, and gave an almost feral smile. Hera could easily guess where he’d been.

“Things went well with Shale, in case you were wondering,” she said. “Be ready to go in the morning.”

Alistair couldn’t even open his mouth before she sashayed away, hips swaying with pride. He sighed, and kept moving.

♢♢♢♢♢

Oghren, Wynne, and Nyx spoke for a while. It was odd, but welcomed company for supper. They were already on the road to Redcliffe, ready to return to Arl Eamon and face the troubles that awaited in Denerim. Except, they wouldn’t be returning just yet. Oghren already liked their little group enough to ask a favor. He wanted to go to Lake Calenhad to the Spoiled Princess, where Felsi worked. Nyx tried not to grin too big as she agreed to this. It was hardly much of a detour, and Oghren deserved his happiness.

“We’ll start back that way tomorrow,” Nyx said. “Lake Calenhad isn’t far and we could use something of a break.”

“Thanks, Warden,” Oghren said.

“You can just call me Nyx. We’re friends now, right? No need to be so formal,” Nyx said.

“Oh, right,” Oghren said, pausing to release a small burp. Wynne grimaced. “Honestly I’d just forgotten your name!” He laughed uproariously. Wynne sighed and shook her head.

It took a conversation about ales, beers, and wines to have the two start to get along. Even Nyx was impressed by Wynne’s refined palette. It was obvious that she liked her wines, the way she would have a glass with her meals whenever she had the opportunity, but for it to translate over to hops wasn’t something Nyx expected. Oghren was just glad to have met someone else appreciative of the drink.

With him around, Wynne ended up indulging more than she intended. Nyx had a little too much, as well, stopping when her head seemed to spin. Oghren cackled, calling the two of them lightweights and downing more ale.

“You know,” Wynne said, her speech slurring here and there, “I’m not perfect. People think I am because I act so wise and knowledgeable, but I’ve made mistakes. My biggest regret is that I was an awful mentor to the one person who needed me most.”

Nyx quirked her head. “You never told me this story,” she said.

“Not even before?” Wynne asked. Nyx shook her head. “Then maybe it’s time you know. When you’re in the Circle, once you pass your Harrowing, they assign you to an apprentice. My first apprentice, Anerin, came from an Alienage.”

“He was an elf?” Nyx said.

“Yes. He was very...distrustful. With reason, I hear,” Wynne said. “He was just fourteen when he got there but I pushed him so much. I wanted to be sure my first apprentice was the best the Circle had ever seen. I don’t know if it was from pride or fear of seeing someone I was responsible for fail. I...he needed time to adjust, but I just pushed more books in his hands and told him to study and practice. Practice and study.

“He started to talk about the Dalish. He revered them, told me the elves in the Alienage have all sorts of stories of how they live free and outside of all human rule. They dream of running away to join the Dalish. Anerin spoke of it like it was his greatest hope in life.”

“They rarely accept someone from outside of the clan,” Nyx said. “My Keeper was more accepting than most.”

“What?” Oghren said.

“I...oh, I’ve not…” Nyx said, then took a deep breath. “I can tell you after Wynne finishes her story. Please, continue.”

Wynne looked between the two, until she decided she was alright with this arrangement. “I should have seen it coming the way he talked. Anerin ran off one morning, but of course the templars could track him using his phylactery. It’s doubtful that he made it. If I’d just spoken to him, let him do something other than study magic…”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Nyx said.

“It’s my fault he ran. Anerin was my responsibility, and I should have taken better care of him,” Wynne said.

“Are you certain he’s dead? He could have made it to the Dalish. They need mages,” Nyx said. “There have been some clans who had a mage child transferred to them because there just haven’t been enough born among us.”

“It would be nice to hear if he had,” Wynne said. “But it’s doubtful. The templars wouldn’t give up unless they brought him back or… When they returned from their search without Anerin, that was my answer.”

“Might not hurt to ask. I know he wasn’t among my clan, but the other Dalish will still be in the forest after they promised to lend us aid,” Nyx said. “It’s on the way to Denerim from Redcliffe.”

“That’s generous, thank you, but I wouldn’t want to keep us behind just on the off-chance—”

“Wynne,” Nyx said, “it’s no delay. Plus it would be nice to be among the Dalish again.”

“Alright,” Oghren said, leaning forward, “what is with you talking about the elves like you’re best buddies? You’re a human. They _hate_ you.”

“Yes, well…” Nyx began, but Wynne put a hand on her shoulder.

“I can tell him,” Wynne offered. “You should go and get some sleep.”

Nyx nodded, smiling in silent thanks. Wynne was beginning the story as Nyx walked away. She had no idea how he’d take it, given that she’d known about Branka. Having someone else tell her story was strange, but appreciated. Hera had done it with Zevran, not that Nyx had known at the time. Still, Wynne would be able to remain calm and answer all of Oghren’s questions without starting to hyperventilate.

Now, Nyx didn’t know where to go. She had started walking towards her tent, but there were still a few people awake and she wasn’t tired yet. Alistair and Artemis sat with Perseus, playing cards. They had even dealt her dog a hand, trying to teach him to play.

“Then you can discard ones you won’t use,” Artemis said. She looked up as Nyx approached. “He was terrible at Dead Man’s Tricks, so we’re trying to teach him Wicked Grace instead.”

Nyx knelt between Perseus and Artemis. She wasn’t going to ignore Alistair, but she would respect his space. Being near him still hurt, even if they were on better terms.

“No gambling, Percy, you hear me?” Nyx said, ruffling his ears.

“The panting and wagging would be an easy tell,” Alistair said. His eyes met Nyx’s for a moment, before they both forced themselves to look away.

Artemis tried to pretend not to notice. Leliana had said something about those two “needing time” and “figuring it out at their own pace.” Artemis thought that was ridiculous. When she’d first met them, there was no keeping them apart. If they had been in love then, they could at least be friends now. Artemis stood up.

“I fold. I’m going to sleep,” Artemis said. She left the cards behind and marched over to Leliana’s tent, where she had her bedroll spread out since Nyx reclaimed her own tent. They never did much more than kiss, and Artemis gave Leliana her space when they went to sleep. Still, the closeness was nice.

Nyx would have agreed, had someone asked her. Since their private moment in the Deep Roads, she and Alistair hadn’t so much as brushed against each other accidentally. When he handed her anything, Nyx was careful not to touch his fingers. She was going to stay away until he told her to do otherwise. And Nyx didn’t believe he’d do that.

“Can I ask you something?” Alistair said.

Nyx settled in, sitting cross-legged as she continued patting Perseus. “Anything.”

“Well, okay it isn’t really a question, exactly. I was just...wondering about you. The _real_ you,” Alistair said. “There’s this whole person I don’t even know. But...I’d like to.”

Nyx expected him to ask about the Landsmeet. After all, it was what her mind kept wandering back to. But he was right. Nyx had never been able to share her life among the Dalish with him. Alistair had never spoken to Hera about it, to Nyx’s knowledge, so he didn’t even hear about it from that perspective.

“W-what would you like to know?” she asked. There were plenty of places to begin.

“All of it?” Alistair said. When Nyx still stared at the ground, speechless, he cleared his throat and tried something else. “Do you speak elven?”

“Yes,” Nyx said. “I feel more...myself, when I use it.”

“And you had...markings? Like Hera?” he said, gesturing at his face.

“It’s called _vallaslin_. The literal translation is ‘blood writing,’ because we use our own blood for the process,” Nyx explained.

Alistair made a face, but tried to hide it when he noticed he’d reacted in a way she could see.

Nyx smiled patiently. “Mine didn’t look like hers, though.”

“I remember,” Alistair said, “when we saw your double.”

Her smile faltered. “Right,” Nyx said.

“What about your family?” Alistair asked.

“I never knew my parents,” Nyx said. “They died before I got to meet them, so I was raised by Ashalle. She didn’t tell me the truth about them until the day I left with Duncan.”

“So he recruited you before, too?”

“He did, but not… I didn’t want to leave my clan, but if I’d stayed I would have died of the taint.”

“You were infected?”

Nyx nodded. “There was this mirror. Tamlen and I—he was my best friend since I was a child— we ran into these humans in the forest that told us they’d found ruins. Tamlen wanted to see what was inside. I was curious too, but I thought we should ask the Keeper about them first. She wouldn’t just have us wandering into places like that on our own, and we had already been punished. I don’t even remember what we’d done. He was always getting me into trouble like that.”

She chuckled to herself, but there was a notable trace of sadness within her laughter. Nyx forced herself to keep talking, to distract from the hurt.

“We found the ruins without any trouble. There were all kinds of monsters, which made me want to turn around even more, but Tamlen told me to keep going, so I did. Then…” Nyx swallowed. “We found a mirror. It was ancient and there was this humming in the air. I didn’t know at the time, but it was an eluvian. A sort of portal from the ancient elvhen. But it was...tainted. I told Tamlen not to touch it. I wanted to go back to the Keeper more than ever, but he stepped forward anyway.

“There was an explosion. Next thing I knew I was waking up at camp and everyone wanted to know where Tamlen had gone. He’d disappeared, and I was only barely kept alive by our Keeper’s magic. Duncan had… Duncan saved my life. Carried me back to my clan. Merrill, our clan’s First, helped me look for Tamlen, but he was just gone. Just...gone.

“When Duncan told me I had to join the Grey Wardens, I was livid,” Nyx said, with a single breath of sarcastic laughter leaving her. She shook her head. “I wanted to stay with my clan, my _family_ , and I certainly didn’t feel like I was suited to join a group of legendary heroes.” Nyx hadn’t thought about this for so long. After so long with the word “Warden” defining her entire being, she forgot what it was like to have wanted to be anything else.

“But I would have died otherwise, and Duncan assured me that I’d proven myself skilled enough. He allowed me to stay for the...for Tamlen’s funeral. The worst part is, he wasn’t even dead,” Nyx said.

“What do you mean?” Alistair asked.

“I don’t know if we’ll see him again, but before...the darkspawn sent a group of their own to kill us one night. Tamlen was with them,” Nyx said. She bit her lip, trying to hold in tears. “He’d been made into a ghoul and forced to fight us. I had to...I had to…” She could continue no longer. Her face fell into her hands, her shoulders trembling.

Nyx knew Tamlen was out there, whether or not she ran into him. If she didn’t, he’d remain a ghoul until someone managed to kill him. That could take a long time, and Nyx didn’t want that to be his fate. Nor did she want to see him like that again. Knowing she wouldn’t have a choice if Tamlen appeared again was no comfort, but at least it wasn’t another decision to agonize over. Not that he’d know Nyx even if he did show himself.

Perseus put his head on her thigh, giving a soft whine. Alistair moved closer, and placed a hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles while she cried. Nyx felt like that was all she ever did, these days.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said. “That must have been...awful. Saying that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“No, no,” Nyx said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s...it was awful. Even though Duncan and the Keeper and everyone suspected he’d died, somehow I _knew_ he was alive. It wasn’t denial, I just felt it. When I saw him like that… Death would have been far kinder.”

“Did he...remember you?” Alistair asked.

“He did. Spoke to me. Called me _lethallan_ like he always would,” Nyx said. “Then he begged me to end his suffering.”

Alistair paused. He wanted to ask more, but the question that came to mind didn’t seem fair to ask. But he had to know. “Why didn’t you go to save him?”

Nyx raised her head in shock. “What?”

“You came back, all the way before Ostagar. Did you not try to reach him?” Alistair said.

“It was too late,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “By the time we escaped Highever, it would only be a few days more before Tamlen touched the eluvian. Maybe I could have told Duncan...but it felt...inevitable. That was the first time I couldn’t stop someone I loved from dying, even when I was standing right there.”

Neither of them said it, but they knew that Alistair’s death had been the same. He might not have learned all the details, but he understood that she knew a way to prevent it. Which meant if she’d just known to do that before, Nyx would have never turned back.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said, though he chastised himself for the repeated apology. Why couldn’t he think of something better to comfort her? No words seemed right. Instead, Alistair figured out something he could _do._

He leaned over to her quickly, and placed a gentle peck on her cheek. When Alistair pulled away, he could taste the salt of tears on his lips. Nyx’s face was bright pink and very, very warm. She stared at him for a long time, her fingers ghosting over the spot he’d just kissed. To say it was a surprise didn’t even begin to cover it.

“I...um...I should go. Sleep. Sleep is important,” Alistair said, clumsily getting to his feet.

“Lake Calenhad!” Nyx burst before he could leave. He jumped at the noise. “I meant, we’re going to go to Lake Calenhad before Redcliffe. For Oghren.”

“He has business with the mages?” Alistair said, raising a single brow above his widened eyes.

“No, it’s...an old flame,” Nyx said, looking at the ground. “It’s not far and I think we can spare the time and it would make Oghren _really_ happy…”

“Oh,” Alistair breathed. “Yes, of course. Let’s go, then. I’ll see you...I’ll see you in the morning!”

Alistair shuffled off, ducking into his tent and nearly tripping on the way in. Nyx might have giggled if she weren’t still in shock. He’d kissed her. On the cheek, sure, but it was still a show of affection.

This could only mean something good, right? Nyx tried to tell herself that, but doubt taunted her. If she believed it was a sign that she had a chance, yet, she would get optimistic. Getting optimistic meant getting her hopes up, and getting her hopes up meant allowing them to be crushed when Alistair inevitably clarified that it was a lapse in judgment. Because that was the best explanation.

Yet, he had said he might still love her when they’d reunited in the Deep Roads. That could have been the stress of the moment. But he _did_ say it. Nyx threw her arms around Perseus and face-planted into his fur.

“Percy,” she mumbled incoherently, “what does this mean?”

Perseus barked softly, then grumbled, the exact rhythm and cadence of someone saying, “I dunno.” Nyx nuzzled his side. She needed to go to bed, herself, before she could overthink this. Even though she knew she had already done just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *suspect giggling* Nothing happens in the next chapter I swear. It may as well be filler. *even more suspicious laughter*


	27. I Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slight mention of suicide.
> 
> I made a bit of a personal post on this on tumblr [here](http://theramblinggirl.tumblr.com/post/150452384409/regarding-the-latest-chapter-of-warden-reborn). It's not necessary to read at all, but I felt like...sharing this, I guess.
> 
> Those of you who have been enjoying this story, I really appreciate the love for it. It means more to me than you realize; both the story itself and the people who have been reading.
> 
> Sorry to get all sappy on you. I'm really proud of this chapter, so I won't keep you any longer!

The Maker must have chosen to have a good laugh at their expense, because that same night, Nyx awoke from the terrible feeling of scratching in her head. She knew the sensation immediately, and grabbed Stargazer. In just her leathers, she leapt out of the tent ready to defend the others. Perseus and Scooby were barking up a storm, waking everyone else in the camp.

Before they could complain about the noise, they saw that Alistair and Nyx were already in a fighting stance with their weapons drawn. The two Wardens being prepared like that was no coincidence.

Shrieks appeared from their hiding spots, and those that could ducked back in to grab their things and arm themselves. Hera was shouting incoherent curses, alternating between elven and the common tongue. Nyx only caught a few of the words as she lunged at one of the darkspawn, but gathered that Hera and Zev had been sleeping in the nude and were even more unprepared for this fight than the rest of them.

Nyx forced herself to keep focus as long as she could, until timely backup helped her fell the shriek she was fighting. She whipped her head around, looking for the familiar face and praying she wouldn’t see it.

Nyx’s heart sank. There, just on the far edge of camp, was Tamlen. His head was shaved and he looked deathly ill, but she knew his face anywhere.

Tamlen had his bow drawn, forced to attack. Nyx panicked. If anyone else saw him, they’d think he was just another enemy to be taken down, but she couldn’t let him go without talking to him. Even if he didn’t know her...didn’t remember…

Hera climbed out of the tent with her armor on and her daggers in her hands. She cut at one of the Shrieks, trying to take them out as quickly as she could. Nyx watched as one of Tamlen’s arrows flew, whizzing past Leliana and striking Hera instead. It hit her shoulder, but thankfully it hadn’t gone too deep. Still, it hurt. Hera hissed, holding back a shout.

“Hera!” Nyx called. Hera didn’t hear her, or ignored her, and kept fighting. Nyx grunted in frustration and ran, slicing deep into the Shriek’s back. It demonstrated the sound it was named for before trying to turn and retaliate. Nyx was ready, cutting clean through its neck. The darkspawn’s head fell to the ground.

“Hera, come with me, we have to go—” Nyx started.

“What are you talking about? We need to fight!” Hera said.

“Look!” Nyx said, pointing frantically at Tamlen. He had another arrow nocked, but fired this one weakly. It sank into the ground in front of him instead of hitting anyone. Tamlen missed on purpose.

Hera looked, and paled. She tore off towards him without even a second glance at Nyx. Nyx had to chase her, cutting through one of the Shrieks as she ran. She was sure she heard someone calling her name, but she kept going. Nyx wanted to see Tamlen. Wanted to see...wanted to tell him… She had no idea.

Nyx had no plan, no real thought besides her desire to make sure he was freed from this curse. If he’d just not touched that eluvian. If he’d just not been so _curious_.

“Tamlen!” Hera screamed. His hands shook, raising his bow again.

“ _Lethallan, sathan_ ,” Tamlen begged. “I can’t stop myself.”

Nyx ran, tossing Stargazer to the ground. She reached Tamlen only to wrestle his bow out of his hands. He let it go without much difficulty. Nyx threw it far away.

“Tamlen,” Nyx sobbed. “ _Ir abelas...ir abelas_ … I should have done more.”

“I...don’t know you,” he said. “Or did they take my memories?” Tamlen clutched his head with a cry of pain. “I don’t know! I don’t know!”

“Tamlen, you don’t know me, but I do know you. I’m so sorry for everything. I should have been there to save you, too. I’m so sorry, _lethallin,_ ” Nyx said.

Hera stood, shock still and silent behind Nyx. She knew Tamlen, too, had all the memories, but he wasn’t _her_ Tamlen. Was he? The heartbreak she was feeling was certainly real. The tears that brimmed her eyes definitely were real tears. Hera stepped forward.

“What happened to you?” Hera asked.

“They made me...took me and turned me into a ghoul. Like I’m one of _them,_ ” Tamlen said. “Please, _lethallan,_ I can’t stop myself. If you don’t kill me I will hurt you. I don’t want to. I don’t _want to._ ”

“Hera,” Nyx pleaded, “you have to help him.”

Hera shook her head, backing away. No. No, she couldn’t. This was Tamlen. Sweet, adventurous, obnoxious, trouble-making Tamlen. There was no way she could lift a blade against him.

“You said being a Warden cures people,” Hera insisted. “Make him a Warden!”

“I can’t, Hera,” Nyx said. “It’s too late. He’s too…” She turned to him. “Tamlen, think. Think of the name Nyx. Do you...is it possible that means anything to you?”

He shook his head. “No...no…” Tamlen muttered. “No, I don’t know.”

Nyx nodded, then stalked back a few paces and took Stargazer. “Then let me tell you. I was your dearest friend, and you were mine. You were like my brother, and I loved you so much. So I’m going to set you free,” Nyx said.

“No!” Hera screamed. “There has to be another way!”

“You don’t think I wish there were?!” Nyx said. “He can’t live like this, and I can’t cure him.”

“Hera,” Tamlen said, “let me die.”

Hera just kept shaking her head. “Please, Nyx. _Sathan!_ ”

Nyx would hear no more. She lifted Stargazer, and ran its point through his stomach. Tamlen gaped, making a sound like his throat had closed up. Within seconds he slumped over, and Nyx released him from her blade. She watched the light leave his bright blue eyes before they shut, and he collapsed.

Hera screamed. She fell onto her knees and dropped her weapons, sobbing. “I hate you!” she cried. “I _hate_ you, Nyx! How could you?!”

Nyx pulled her lips into a thin line, one of the corners twitching. Her eyes watered. She swooped down to hold Hera, whispering over and over, “ _Ir abelas, lethallan. Ir abelas_.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx awoke in someone’s arms. She left her eyes closed, settled into the warmth, so tempted to sleep again. She was sore from crying, anyway, and from the way Hera pounded her fists against her back. Nyx tried to remember the remainder of last night.

Zevran had pulled Hera away, letting her lean on him as he walked her back towards the camp. Nyx had stood, alone and her chest aching. She looked down at Tamlen’s body and started to shake, hands lifting to her mouth with a gasp. Nyx had killed him _twice_. She couldn’t bear the weight of it. But before she could fall back to her knees, two strong arms encircled her and held her up.

Alistair. Alistair had been there, petting her hair and shushing her. He hadn’t needed to ask; he remembered her story and pieced things together. He asked if Nyx wanted to bury him or give him a pyre. Nyx managed, by some miracle, to ask that Tamlen’s body be burned.

They stayed up for almost another hour, sitting together while a few of their companions set up a crude pyre for the man they didn’t know. Alistair had briefly explained who Tamlen was to them, and they understood well enough. Leliana offered to sing over his departure, and Nyx mumbled that she’d like that. Alistair had translated the request, as Nyx was too quiet and her voice was too scratchy. She’d been crying often.

Then they set Tamlen’s body on the pyre, and Wynne lit the flames with her magic. Nyx hadn’t left Alistair’s arms since he first grabbed a hold of her. She knew who she’d woken up with, now.

Nyx tried to move, to get up without waking him, but Alistair just hugged her tighter in his sleep. If things weren’t so complicated, she might have stayed, but as things were it felt like she’d be taking advantage of him. Neither of them had intended to fall asleep like this. Nyx nudged him, hoping that Alistair would either wake up or release her.

His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked in surprise. Alistair loosened his grip enough for Nyx to slide out of it, getting up in a hurry.

“Sorry,” Nyx said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...we must have just been tired and…”

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m sorry. I should have...well if I was tired I should have known to just…” Alistair said.

Neither of them could finish a coherent thought. Nyx thought she shouldn’t be so terrible at this. She’d woken up in his arms countless times. Naked, even! Except she was more skittish now than she’d ever been when she woke up without clothes. Alistair’s mind was in a similar place, except he was also trying desperately to stop thinking about Nyx and her bare, porcelain skin. He sheltered his face to hide his blush.

They didn’t bring it up again. In fact, they avoided each other more than they had been avoiding one another the previous day. No one commented on it, but there were a few raised eyebrows. Nyx was grateful when they reached Lake Calenhad at dusk.

♢♢♢♢♢

“I still don’t understand how her saying you’re a ‘worthless copper-plated sword-caste’ is a success,” Alistair said. They were back on track, making their way to Redcliffe as planned. Oghren’s love life had worked wonders at defusing the tension. “Not that I get what that means, but it doesn’t sound very good.”

“Trust me, she could barely keep her hands offa me,” Oghren said. “And the Warden knew just what to say. I mean, she’s done it before, but she played Felsi like a fiddle!”

Alistair glanced a few paces behind him, where Nyx and Hera were speaking with each other. They were smiling again, which was a good sign. Since the night with Tamlen, things had been awkward between those two, but given time, they were repairing their...whatever it was they considered themselves now. Hera tossed around all sorts of different words, and no one knew what to actually call the two women.

Oghren chuckled, which refocused Alistair’s attention. Looking back at the dwarf, there was a sly grin on his face. “Sure is romantic,” Oghren said, waggling his brows.

“I...what are you going on about now?” Alistair said.

“You and the Warden,” Oghren said. “Going back in time for love. I mean, it was sodding crazy of her to do it, but it takes a special kind of gal to go that far for you.” Oghren elbowed Alistair. “Plus she ain’t too bad looking. You know, for a human. Elf. Sod it.”

Things like that aren’t helpful to internal conflicts. Alistair already disagreed with himself on enough. Pointing out the other factors involved in his decisions just served to make refocusing his brain that much harder. Thank Andraste her bulky metal armor hid most of Nyx’s “assets” while they were out on the road. Not that Alistair’s imagination wasn’t doing enough to torment him.

Which is why his was a sigh of relief when they were ambushed by what seemed to be highwaymen. With the group all together and in good shape, even ambushed, the bandits didn’t stand a chance. Yet, as Zevran stepped in to make the kill, Leliana tugged his arm back.

“Wait,” she said, “these are no ordinary highwaymen.”

“Of course they aren’t. But they _were_ trying to kill us,” Zevran said. He so hated being interrupted.

“We weren’t here for you!” the bandit leader said. “She just wanted us to kill the little red-haired girl and deal with the others as we pleased. Didn’t realize there would be so damn many of you.”

Artemis hurried up behind them. “You think he means you?” she asked Leliana.

“Either her or Hera,” Zevran said.

“Who sent you?” Leliana said.

“I didn’t ask any names. Just know where I’ve got to get my money,” the man said. Then he scoffed. “Seems I’ll be lucky to get away with my life, at this point. But maybe...maybe we could work something out? I think you’ll like it.”

“Speak quickly,” Leliana said.

“I know where you can find the one what wants you dead,” the man said. “I have some directions written on how to get to the house. It’s in Denerim. This is the best I have to offer. Now please, let me go?”

Artemis and Leliana exchanged a look. “Information for your life, then,” Artemis said.

He handed over the papers, then scurried away in a hurry. Artemis’ hand twitched, nearly reaching for another arrow out of instinct, but she stopped herself. Leliana looked over the papers, her expression only darkening with time.

“It’s Marjolaine...it has to be,” Leliana said, tucking the papers away.

“She’s still after you?” Artemis asked.

“Someone must have seen me, I don’t know. Either way this has her name written all over it,” Leliana said. “We should go to Denerim, settle this score for good.”

“Nyx!” Artemis called, turning towards the Warden. “You said we’ll be back in Denerim for the Landsmeet?”

“Yes, of course,” Nyx said. “I’ve found this house with you once before. I think...I don’t think we should let her go.”

“What do you mean?” Leliana said.

“I had wanted to prove we were better than her. Be the bigger person and spare her life,” Nyx said. “But she will never let you go. You had to hunt her yourself after the Blight. One way or another, she has to die. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear but...you deserve to know.”

Leliana paused, waiting in silence for a long moment, before she nodded. “I have lived too long with my past chasing me. Once we are in Denerim, I will find her.”

With the mood sobered, everyone was in a hurry to keep moving. Nyx was the only one that stayed, hovering behind for a moment before she found the strength to move her legs. Knowing that she was right in what she’d said did nothing to ease the cold chill inside of her. Marjolaine was another death Nyx had decided was necessary, inevitable even, but she hated admitting it. She hated hearing herself say the words out loud.

Alistair found himself beside Nyx as she got moving again. It was clear from her eyes that her heart was heavy. His own reaction to her advice was hard to gauge. It was, as far as he knew, not the wrong thing to do, but Nyx didn’t have the greatest track record with excusing deaths. The Nyx that Alistair had known before, however, was one who tried to see the most peaceful solution. If she knew there was none, if she said there hadn’t been one, then she was telling the truth. He had to believe that.

“You want to hear a joke?” Alistair said. Nyx looked up at him curiously and nodded. “A mushroom walks into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender tells him to get out. The mushroom says, ‘Why? I’m a fun-guy.’”

Nyx snorted. “That was awful,” she said.

“I’ve got hundreds more where that came from,” Alistair said.

“It is a long way to Redcliffe…” Nyx said, swinging her feet in small circles as she walked. “Could help pass the time.”

Alistair grinned, then cleared his throat. “What do you get when you cross a Dwarf with a Qunari?”

♢♢♢♢♢

Cronus was displeased. It was not an oddity, but this instance was one of note. Upon their return to Redcliffe, Eamon wanted to handle a bit of business before preparing their departure. The business in question, being Jowan’s life. Cronus felt every hair on his body raise at once when the blood mage that was once his closest friend was brought into the room.

He’d been treated decently, for having been involved in a plot to kill the Arl. Eamon was not one for torture, and Jowan had already willingly given all that he knew. They kept him fed enough that he’d not starved, though the loss of weight was evident in the way his old robes hung on his arms and torso. Jowan still wore his robes from when he’d arrived, and had not been given anything to wash himself with. To say he stank would not do justice to his condition.

Cronus was already disgusted to see him, but to see him in this condition was an insult. He’d heard what Jowan had done. Whether Cronus believed it was uncertain, even to Cronus himself. Hearing Jowan admit to his crimes tipped the scale in Cronus’ mind. His fists clenched.

“You always were a moron,” Cronus said. There was a broken affection in his voice that one could only catch if they knew him well. In that room, Jowan and Morrigan were the only two who took full notice.

“Cronus? When did you…? I should have known you’d find a way out of the Tower,” Jowan said. “I’m sorry I involved you in my mess, old friend.”

“Sorry my arse,” Cronus said. “We destroyed your phylactery. The least you could have done was live well outside the Circle. So what are you doing here?”

“That is exactly what I wanted the Wardens’ help in deciding,” Arl Eamon said. Cronus scowled at the interruption. “I would make a verdict on my own, but I don’t trust myself to be...unbiased. Warden Nyx, you saw it in your heart to spare this man. What would you have us do with him?”

“He’s from the Circle. Perhaps they ought to decide his fate,” Nyx said.

“We can’t hand him over to them,” Cronus said. “At best they’ll kill him swiftly. At worst, he’ll be made Tranquil.”

“Is that really worse than death?” Artemis asked.

“Cronus, please,” Wynne said. “The Circle is the best option for him. Jowan has committed crimes of his own volition, and he must accept the punishment that comes with them.”

“She’s right,” Jowan said. “It is no one’s fault but my own. What other option is there?”

_To free him._ That was what Cronus wanted, but knew could never happen. His idiot best friend had turned to blood magic, run from the Circle, and gone straight to assassination. Jowan couldn’t have made worse decisions if he’d actually been trying to ruin his life. Mages, from birth until death, were given bad hand after bad hand. It should surprise no one that so many of them choose to fold.

Jowan was escorted out by a couple of Eamon’s knights. Cronus just watched as they went. There was no more to be said and nothing he could do. The Grey Wardens and Arl Eamon were starting to discuss the Landsmeet and plans to move out the next day. They had the same rooms they’d been given the previous stay here. Good.

Cronus knew exactly where to go. He sank into the bed. Practicing magic often helped when his mood was sour. Given that his mood was often foul, that meant his energy was constantly a swirl in his gut. Releasing it worked much like punching a pillow worked for non-mages. He just needed a target or an aim.

With not much else in the room other than the bed, Cronus settled on using the candles that lit the room. He focused on the flames, letting them grow and shrink as he exhaled and inhaled. Their size increased in increments as he did this, his frustration rising as he allowed his thoughts to wander.

The whole point of helping Jowan was to stop him from being made Tranquil. _Alright, not entirely true,_ Cronus had to admit. Fucking over the templars and the Chantry was another very good reason for him to go along with Jowan’s plan. Cronus hadn’t cared much for Lily, even expecting her to betray them in the end. Why live a life on the run when you could be praised for exposing two renegade mages? Apparently he didn’t give the sister enough credit, and gave Jowan far too much.

The next burst of flames scorched the wall. Cronus snuffed out the candles in his surprise. No one would notice a small, blackened spot on the otherwise perfect walls, right? Damn it all, of course they would.

He set to work finding one of the hanging portraits to cover the mark. It might be suspect to see it suddenly moved, but at least it could delay the discovery of his mistake until they left the next day. Cronus was just hanging the painting back up when he heard the door creak open. He stumbled, leaving the frame crooked.

“Um, dinner is served, messere. At your leisure,” a skittish servant girl said. She hovered by the door, her eyes wandering from Cronus to the portrait and back again. In the end, she decided against saying anything and hurried away, back to her duties. If anyone asked, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing at all.

Cronus gathered himself, the task of hiding the scorch mark having cleared his head enough to move on. Everyone was in good cheer when he arrived. He found his seat on a far end of the table, and ate in silence. Morrigan was busy having it out with Alistair. Nyx laughed at their antics, and Wynne scolded them for making a scene. This was one of the few moments Cronus regretted not getting to know anyone else.

“Sorry about your friend,” Artemis said. He hadn’t noticed that she was beside him until then. Actually, he rarely noticed her at all unless he was busy being disgusted by how cutesy Leliana acted around her.

“Don’t concern yourself with it. No amount of pity can help him now,” Cronus grunted, stuffing a cooked carrot into his mouth.

“You said they’d make him...Tranquil? What is that, exactly?” Artemis asked.

He stopped chewing. Elves in the Alienage wouldn’t know about the lives of Circle mages. He forgot that, sometimes. That not everyone understood every threat that loomed over a mage’s head. It was bad enough being stared at by templars whose hands twitched over their swords as Cronus passed, but they hadn’t stopped there.

Cronus swallowed his food. “They take your every emotion, everything that makes you who you are, and leave you a walking, talking corpse that has all the memories of the person that once inhabited the body. You’re cut off from the Fade so you can’t do magic. And it’s irreversible,” he said. “It’s killing the person without getting rid of their oh-so-useful body.”

“Oh,” Artemis breathed. Cronus took another bitter bite of food. “So...what do Tranquil mages do?”

“Enchant things. Clean. Cook. Whatever the templars tell them they ought to,” Cronus said, not even bothering to swallow first this time.

“They’re slaves, then?”

Cronus slammed his fork down. The room quieted, a lot of attention suddenly drawn to his end of the table. He ducked down. “I’d rather not talk about this,” Cronus said.

Artemis nodded. The rest of the people at the long table got on with their conversations. Cronus returned to his silence.

♢♢♢♢♢

How this had started was a bit of a mystery, yet, but Nyx found she had a hard time finding complaint in the fact that it was happening. The confusion of it was the only reason to stop, but she didn’t want that. Not yet.

They had set camp for the night, still somewhere in the Hinterlands. Before dinner was prepared, however, Alistair had found Nyx, whispered a few words that she understood only as “Come with me,” then took her hand and pulled her along. Nyx did not stop herself from being lead, though they went a ways away from camp.

Finally Alistair had stopped, looked her in the eyes for what felt like a minute but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, then drew her into a hug. That _must_ have lasted a full minute. Alistair let Nyx go after that, and said...she couldn’t remember anymore. It had been wonderful and sweet and so like him, then Nyx had nodded. Why had she done that? Her memory was very hazy, because after she nodded, Alistair had pulled her close again, this time for a kiss.

They’d been standing there for quite a while, hardly pausing for breath. At some point he’d backed her against a tree, and Nyx had gasped. Alistair grinned, and she felt that curve to his lips when they pressed against hers.

Lucidity was returning to her at last, as Nyx raised a hand and slid her fingers over his lips and pushed his face gently away from her. She giggled a bit at his stunned expression and flushed cheeks, then let her hand fall back at her side. Nice as kissing was, it was probably best that they talk more, first.

“I’m afraid I need to...ask your intentions,” Nyx said.

“I’ll be completely honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Alistair said. He stepped away from her, leaving some space between them to fight the magnetism. It would be too easy to start the whole process over again, occupying their mouths so speaking like they needed to was impossible. “Actually I didn’t even mean to...do what we just did, there.”

“Do you regret it?” Nyx asked.

“No,” Alistair said, running a hand through his hair. “Should I?”

“I hope not.”

He chuckled. “Me, too.” There was a beat, leaving the two of them to remember how out of breath kissing like that could leave them. “I actually meant to ask about the Landsmeet, but I guess I got ahead of myself. So, um, about that. The Landsmeet. What...uh… What happened there last time? I know I was...you said I was going to become the King.”

Nyx felt the air leave her, relief flowing in as it returned just seconds later. She would not lose her head this time. She was determined to tell him all he needed to know. Nyx sat at the base of the tree, patting a spot next to her to invite Alistair to join her.

“I intended to prevent it,” Nyx said. “You made your desires very clear from the beginning, and I couldn’t bear the thought of...some part of me always understood that an elf and a King just wouldn’t work. So the decision wasn’t entirely selfless.” She peered up at him through her bangs, then ducked her head down again. Alistair was letting her talk, without interruption.

“When we got to the palace, Ser Cauthrien was waiting for us. She was… _is_ fiercely loyal to Loghain. We had to kill her to pass, plus a few other men. I think I can talk her out of fighting, now, but before...nothing I said was good enough.

“After that we entered the throne room and it was packed full of nobles from every corner of Ferelden. I didn’t know many of them then, but now I remember their faces and their whole family history,” Nyx said. She paused at this, trying to figure out how she felt about it. Every so often, the knowledge of her human half still struck her as odd, and she couldn’t help but think it ought to be the other way around. Nyx had to continue.

“Loghain was already at the front of the room, accusing us of all manner of things. He tried hard as he could to turn every last man against us. But Anora entered the room, supporting us instead of her father. I think...I think she only did that because I promised I would give her the throne. Still, it helped us tremendously.

“When I told the room of what had been done in the Alienage, there was not nearly as much upset as I thought there ought to be,” Nyx said. Her fingers dug into the dirt. That had angered her so much, but what should she have expected of shemlen lords? “They were more upset when I told them Howe had been torturing a nobleman’s son.”

“What?!” Alistair said.

“Oh, I hadn’t...in the dungeon beneath the Arl of Denerim’s estate there’s a number of prisoners. One of whom was—” she took a moment to think “—Osywn Sighard. Son of the Bann of Dragon’s Peak.” Nyx shook her head. That detail was unimportant before, but her human memories made the knowledge of other families of Fereldan nobility come to the forefront of her mind.

“Revealing that helped convince a few more people, though Loghain insisted he had nothing to do with Howe’s crimes. When put to a vote, it was our majority, for the Grey Wardens. Still, Loghain would not back down. We were forced into combat, one on one. I…” Nyx actually laughed as she remembered this. “I was the one to fight him. An archer against a swordsman.”

“You never mentioned that you were an archer,” Alistair noted. “Though, come to think of it, in the Gauntlet you...the other you had a bow on her back.”

Nyx swallowed. “Right, well… I didn’t think it was important to know.”

“I’d like to know,” Alistair said. “Things like that, I mean. There are things that we need to prepare for or be ready to face, but those things, things about you, I’d never know unless you told me.”

“In that case, I’ll remember to tell you. I just need to think of other things like that first,” Nyx said.

“Anyway, you were fighting Loghain? Which is insane enough a thought on its own, but as an archer?”

“I know. I don’t entirely know what I was thinking at the time,” Nyx said. “It was no easy feat, I’ll say that much. But I did it. Single combat and I won. He conceded to me.” She took a deep breath. This part was where things got messy. Complicated. Nyx was more prepared to admit to this than she was to explain Morrigan’s ritual, but that was the best thing she could think about how she felt. Alistair watched expectantly.

“He...he was to be executed on the spot but…” No. _No._ Nyx couldn’t panic now. She had been doing so well, telling him everything calmly without too many awkward pauses. But breathing became hard and her shoulders quivered. Nyx forced words out, piece by piece.

“When I...I looked at him he was...just...so small,” she said. “I didn’t want to do it. Then Riordan showed up and he...he had the solution. It would have benefited...we could have...we didn’t _have_ to do it!” Nyx curled her fingers in her hair, drawing her knees to her chest. Her tears came quick and hot, spilling down her face.

Alistair threw an arm around Nyx without hesitation. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said, leaning his head against hers. “Take it slow. I’m here.”

“Please...please promise me you’ll listen to everything I—” a breath hitched in her throat “—I have to say. And don’t be...don’t be angry with me.”

Alistair blinked. He didn’t know what she could have done to make him angry. Still he nodded, agreeing to her requests. Nyx needed to feel safe if she was going to get this out, and so long as she was afraid of his reaction, they would get nowhere.

She took a breath in…

...then out.

“I didn’t want to kill anyone. Since I lost Tamlen… Because I never knew my parents… From the very start I wanted to keep people from dying. Any unnecessary losses, any death we had the ability to prevent, I wanted to take that chance. Even if the person was undeserving, I didn’t want to be the one to decide their fate like that.

“I was going to spare Loghain. But then you…” Nyx shook her head. “The other you. He was furious. What Loghain had done was unforgivable, and that was...enough. Riordan, the Grey Warden from Orlais, offered an...alternative. To put him, Loghain, through the Joining.”

Alistair stiffened. Without even looking, she could tell he wanted to say something. But when nothing came, Nyx continued.

“I have only seen you that angry one other time,” Nyx said, “before the Gauntlet when I...told you about me. I was willing to let him do it. There was a chance that Loghain might have died anyway, like Daveth and Jory. But...to have him as a Warden meant that he would be one of us. You said...being a Grey Warden is an honor, not a punishment. Riordan argued that we needed every man possible, and Loghain was an expert strategist who helped win Ferelden back from Orlais.

“Which is when you said you would be King to see that justice was properly dealt. It was...chaos. Anora was shouting and Riordan kept insisting we offer mercy but you...I would have lost you. If I went through with Riordan’s plan you would have left. Just gone without…” She breathed deep. “That was when I knew I would do anything if it meant you would stay. I let you kill Loghain, and you stepped forward as King. And for all that—for all that—I still lost you, because I was just an elf, and you were the King.”

That wasn’t the end, but it was already so hard to speak, Nyx had to stop for a moment. Alistair was stuck, sitting speechless and frozen beside her.

“I actually thought…” Nyx said, finding her nerve again. “I thought you hated me, then. All the politics and reasons you had seemed like conveniences to get rid of me. Voids, I didn’t even blame you for it. I’d betrayed you by considering Riordan’s offer, and myself by rejecting it. I couldn’t even stand by my morals.

“So I learned later that a Grey Warden had to die to defeat the Archdemon. I volunteered. Morrigan had a way out and I refused it. I wanted...I wanted…” Nyx broke into a sob. “I thought it was my only way out. There was nothing for me. My clan was gone, my life dedicated to the Wardens, my only goal in all of this abandoned for selfishness and the man I loved with all my heart hated me, as far as I knew.

“But when we stood on the tower atop Fort Drakon, you didn’t let me. You said...he said that he…” Nyx let her face fall against her knees, her final words an almost incoherent mess of mumbling. “He loved me too much to let me go. And he died, because my arrow missed. It was...it was one more death I couldn’t prevent. And it was the one I wanted to stop more than any other. And he...it was too much. There was nothing left for me.”

Thoughts formed and fell apart in each breath taken while they waited out the silence. Nyx had said all she wanted. All she could, truly. Alistair was struck once more by an uncomfortable mixture of emotions. No one reaction suited what he now knew.

Anger was first, perhaps a little at her, but mostly just at Loghain. He had started all of this, caused all their troubles. Alistair had wanted him dead since he first learned what happened at Ostagar.

What followed were other things, softer and sadder. Pity, guilt, and regret for actions he’d not yet had the chance to do. Alistair knew that without hearing all of this, he would have done the exact same things. It was proof Nyx had not lied, not that he needed that proven anymore. Yet, hearing how that had caused her to unravel like she had made him question everything.

Revenge seemed a clear goal, before. Alistair never considered there being a reason to disagree, nor did he consider that the reason would come from Nyx, who had so scornfully spoken of Loghain. That was a Nyx who had already accepted the idea of “necessary deaths.” Hated it, yes, but accepted nevertheless.

Idealism seldom had a place in the world, but Nyx had her reasons for holding onto it as long as she had. Knowing that, Alistair could see how hard she’d fought to better the lives of others, to let them keep their lives. Nyx spoke of few examples, her mind only allowing comparison of who she’d lost previously, but in truth there were far more she’d rescued. Not to mention she still intended to protect Alistair through to the end.

They ended up speaking no more, but Alistair lead her back towards camp. When the time came that the two of them were yawning, he took her hand again and pulled Nyx into his tent. Alistair needed her close to feel her warmth. Nyx needed to lean her head on him and hear his heartbeat. To be entangled in such a way was the most comforting thing either of them knew, after all that had happened. It was the best night of sleep they’d gotten in weeks.

♢♢♢♢♢

They had avoided passing through Lothering before, the bleak sight of a town overrun by darkspawn not something any of them wanted to experience. Yet, it was still quickest to go through town to reach the other side of the Imperial Highway.

Eamon’s men were ahead of them, most on horseback and some even in carriages, while the Wardens and their companions lagged behind all on foot. It was for the best, Nyx decided, since they would be making a pitstop with the Dalish for Wynne. She’d not forgotten that promise.

Alistair remained at her side most of the way, though the two only spoke of simple things. Neither was ready to broach the subject of the Landsmeet again. There was too much hurt and conflict in them both, though Nyx had made one point clear. She intended to see Loghain dead, and would hear no argument from Riordan.

Lothering reeked of burned flesh even still, what had to be months after it first fell. Nyx prayed that more people had escaped this time, to whatever gods would listen. It was hard to tell, given the destruction of all that once stood. Even the buildings that hadn’t collapsed, like the strong stone Chantry, had their walls coated in blood and cracked. Leliana held a gasp behind her hand.

The oddest thing, however, was the lack of darkspawn in this area. Other parts of the south had been so overrun, they could barely walk ten feet without running into more of the beasts. Now there was an eerie silence, as if the ghosts had chased out the Blight to leave only remnants. The truth was so much worse.

“It is good to see you again, Nyx,” came a voice.

Nyx stopped short as a figure appeared in front of her, his body twisted and gnarled unnaturally. An abomination unlike any she’d ever seen before it, with a name she knew all too well.

The Changeling laughed as he watched their faces pale. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Nyx tried to stand strong, even as her legs shook beneath her. “They know who you are,” she said, “and who I am. What we’ve done. And I am not afraid of you!”

“Your eyes say otherwise,” the Changeling taunted. “And that isn’t entirely true. They do not know _who I am_ , because you never learned who. I. Am.” He lifted his arms in a gesture of welcome that left Nyx cold. The Changeling was all too amused by her fear. “But perhaps it is time that you know,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sathan - please
> 
> Cliffhanger ending! Yes I know I’m terrible.
> 
> Points if you think of a punchline for the second joke Alistair starts to tell.


	28. Splintered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t normally do this for this fic, but [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kxjtXG12Cc) was great for writing the second segment. Give it a listen if you’d like.

They could have attacked and been done with this. Forget about hearing him out. The Changeling was a monster and deserved to be treated as such. Yet, they waited, standing by with weapons drawn as the abomination laughed at nothing.

“Friends,” he said, “we once knew each other so well. Traveled together, worked together. It was by my hand that the Archdemon was slain and by mine that the Blight was ended. Even the Mother and the Architect fell to me. But you wouldn’t know that, because I erased it all. Made it so it never happened. Just like you wanted to.” He pointed a gnarled finger at Nyx.

“You can’t have...Alistair killed the Archdemon,” Nyx said.

“He did. Not just once, either. What you don’t understand is that you are not the first to watch him die,” the Changeling said, a smile with too many teeth spread across his face. “You aren’t the first Grey Warden to fail in what you set out to achieve.”

“We don’t have to listen to this,” Hera said, stepping beside Nyx. “He’s probably just going to lie about everything. There’s no need to entertain him.”

But Nyx shook her head. She wanted to hear this. Lie or not, she wanted to know.

“What reason have I to lie to you, Hera Cousland?” the Changeling said. Hera growled at the use of her old name. “You had your turn as well. Your choices here come as no surprise. You were better prepared than Nyx ever was. You were so ruthless, you taught those with softer hearts among you to be more like you were. Effective, but still there were faults.

“And Artemis, it is a nice surprise to see you here,” he said, delighting in the way Artemis flinched. “Yours was more of a lucky stumble. Until the end, of course. Pity that.”

“Shut up!” Hera screamed. She ran forward, but the familiar sensation of an invisible wall threw her backwards.

“I’m. Not. Done,” the Changeling said, face twisting in dark fury. He curled his fingers, one by one, then extended them, marveling in their length. “There were others. Brosca, Aeducan, Surana… Perhaps they’ve died, or ceased to exist. I care not. They were failures. None of them have managed to prepare Thedas for what is to come.”

“You told us you were going to explain who you are,” Nyx said. “So, tell us.”

The Changeling smiled again, face sickening as ever to look at. “Ah, my Nyx. You have been my favorite, even as a failure. It’s a shame.” Nyx recoiled, her bravery fading as chills ran through her. Even if he only said it to torment her, to think of herself as this monster’s _favorite_...

“You want to know who I am?” the Changeling said, pointing at their group. “Look no further.”

Nyx glanced around. “I don’t understand.”

“Cronus Amell,” the Changeling said. “Good to see you found a place with the Wardens once more. But without all that I know, you would repeat my mistakes. It’s time that I take back what is mine.”

Magic charged in the abomination’s hand, lifted high above his head. It was that same spell he’d meant to cast when they’d met in the ruins of the forest. It cracked and warped the world in its wake, bending the whole of reality where it charged. Last time he had aimed this at Wynne, but now he had a new target. Cronus was struck with the blast before it could even occur to him to move.

He was thrown backwards, left to scream in agony as he writhed on the floor. Blood fell from his eyes. Cronus’ body appeared to be splitting, a hazy mirror image spreading from him before crashing back against him. He twitched, and the ground beneath him cracked into jagged lines like bolts of lightning.

With this, the fight began at last. The Changeling called darkspawn to his side as well as a number of Shades and demons. What power he had amassed over time gave him the ability to command a number of these creatures at his whim. The first wave came at the group just as they’d rose their weapons.

Someone had to look after Cronus, however. He’d finally passed out, ceasing all movement. Morrigan feared him dead for a moment, but saw that his chest still rose and fell. She threw up a barrier around him, holding him still and safe. So long as he needed her protection, Morrigan would stay and cast her offensive spells from a distance, hexing any of the monsters that grew too close.

The group spread out, taking the attacks from either side. Nyx counted six darkspawn from the left, with six more to the right, plus two demons dead ahead. Shades hovered just behind those, with numerous darkspawn archers with longbows, and a few with crossbows. Those had heftier hits. Even with the high quality of Nyx’s current armor, getting hit by one of those would have serious consequences.

It was a lot to be aware of at once. Nyx sucked in a breath and moved.

Hera, with Scooby beside her, lead a charge to the immediate left. Zevran followed close behind. Meanwhile, Shale and Oghren hurled themselves at the darkspawn as fast as they could, shouting the entire way to draw the enemy’s attention.

Artemis stayed behind, but helped by incapacitating a few of the ’spawn, shooting arrows into their calves. Even monsters felt pain, needing to drop to a limp. Artemis’ second target was less lucky, the arrow punching straight through the ankle and sinking into the earth, effectively pinning them in place.

On the right, Leliana was employing a similar strategy, but also saw fit to strike the arm of a darkspawn as it attempted to take a swing at Sten, who was fighting another darkspawn nearby. The beast dropped its blade as the pain convulsed through its muscles. It released a disgusting screech, but Alistair was ready to push his sword through its neck.

Nyx and Perseus went straight for the rage demon that had appeared, with Wynne providing a burst of strength as backup. Morrigan released an ice spell that partially froze the demon, slowing its movement and wounding it severely. Stargazer crashed through the layer of ice that had formed and sliced through the heated form of the creature.

The desire demon that had appeared was about to attack Nyx while she was busy with the rage demon, but Perseus released a loud howl before leaping at the demon. He bit into its neck, and it screamed in a voice that sounded like a woman’s, but with a grosser gurgling noise echoing beneath the scream.

Hera slit another darkspawn’s throat, kicking a second one away as it tried to charge only to watch Zevran cut down its back. She took the opportunity to see if Nyx needed help, which she certainly did. The screaming demon was what caught Hera’s attention.

Perseus was pushed off of the demon by a blast of magic from the Changeling’s own hands. A pained whimper of a bark escaped the mabari as he fell. Nyx was worried, but couldn’t stop to care for the pup while under attack, herself. What was worse, arrows whizzed past her head, which meant the archers she spied before had taken aim. Against the two demons, she must have seemed like easy pickings.

But Hera was ready, kicking up a cloud of dust to obscure the two of them. Nyx coughed for a moment, affected by this technique, but heard the desire demon cry out in pain. Blood was bursting from a hole in its back. Scooby ran at the demon with a headbutt to knock it down before it was able to retaliate against Hera.

Nyx lifted her sword to finish off the rage demon, when she felt herself pulled like a magnet, smacking against the floor just ahead of the Changeling. She’d only ever known Revenants to use an ability like that. The mage continued to surprise her. With his power amplified by the demon within him, who knew how strong he’d become?

She forced herself back onto her feet, grateful at least that Stargazer hadn’t landed too far away. But the Changeling wrenched her upwards, his knuckles wrapped around her throat. She heard Perseus howl from a distance, the sound weaker than normal. He wasn’t able to run to her rescue.

“Nyx, stop struggling,” the Changeling said, shushing her as she gasped for air. “This is a pointless endeavor. They will always hate you for what you’ve done. You’re _nothing._ A failure and a monster, just like me. But the magic I wasted on you and the Cousland brat is still volatile and alive. With my body back under my control, I can make all of this right. It’s been a while since I played the part of Warden.”

Nyx managed to swing her leg close enough for a kick. It was weaker than she’d hoped for, but had enough force behind it to startle the Changeling into dropping her. She coughed and choked, then felt the heat of a lightning bolt soar over her back.

The Changeling staggered, upper body twitching as the smell of burnt flesh reached Nyx’s senses. She rolled away, to escape the stench and to put distance between herself and the abomination. Her neck was sore from where he’d held her. Nyx touched a finger to it and felt the beginnings of bruises.

She flung her arm over to grab Stargazer, pulling it and herself to stand. Morrigan fired another spell, her attention on Nyx, but the Changeling was ready this time. He deflected most of the effect with a barrier, though Nyx still caught the shake of his arm. It had hurt, though he’d avoided any serious damage.

A ways from the Changeling, Hera finished off the desire demon, with Leliana providing backup against the rage demon and Shades that were starting to take notice. The rage demon was weak enough that with a few well placed arrows, it sank into a puddle of lava-like liquid, sizzling into the dirt below and disappearing.

The darkspawn that had been up front were nearly all dead. Sten took care of the last one, using Asala to cut through the creature’s neck and lopping its head clean off. Alistair saw this, and turned immediately to look for Nyx.

Her face was bloodied from hitting the ground and angry red marks circled her throat. Still she stood, blade held tight as she rushed at the Changeling. He met the first few swings with barriers, but the fifth time Nyx attacked, he was distracted by a shot of violet energy flying at him from Morrigan’s staff. Stargazer sank into his shoulder.

The Changeling growled, gnashing his teeth. “You bitch!” he shouted. “I would give you everything!”

Nyx saw that he stared over her head, no longer speaking to her. She didn’t care, not enough to stay frozen while the opportunity to take another swing presented itself. Dislodging her blade, Nyx moved backwards, then sidestepped and attempted to slice the Changeling’s side. He refocused just in time.

Stargazer was blocked, then pushed backwards with a rush of energy. Nyx stumbled but regained her stance quickly. An arrow punched through her armor, into the right side of her gut. One of the crossbow wielding darkspawn had better aim than the others. She gasped at the sharp pain as the point tore her insides, blood slowly seeping from the wound.

Alistair was trying as hard as he could to get to her, but Shades and darkspawn kept blocking his path. Each time he managed to cut through, another monster appeared to stop him. He roared as he smashed his shield into a Hurlock. Nyx could not take on the Changeling alone.

And she wasn’t going to. Morrigan still had her back, and Wynne threw what amount of offensive magic she could wield in the abomination’s direction. Wynne was also at Perseus’ side, having waved a bit of healing magic over him to at least stop the bleeding. She would need to heal him properly later, when she did not need to reserve her mana to fight.

Hera slid through the ranks, moving in and out to strike quick and retreat again. She repeated this, keeping out of reach when she was noticed. It tired her quicker to work this way, but kept the Changeling reaching for her so Nyx could breathe and find her strength.

Enough time had passed for the adrenaline to dull the pain. Nyx’s heart still raced in her chest, but so long as she could still lift her blade, she would press on. She breathed deep, then ran at the Changeling, crashing Stargazer against his barrier and breaking through it to cut into his hand. She’d hacked through his palm.

Yet, this was just an opportunity for the Changeling to push Nyx back with blood magic. His strength grew, caging Hera in a familiar grasp of spirit energy. She felt a few of her bones beginning to crack, but—frozen as she was—she could not cry out in pain.

Alistair had made it through the onslaught of enemies just in time to dispel this magic. Hera collapsed, but her arm and a few of her fingers had been broken. There was no way she could hold her daggers any more.

Scooby was at the ready, protecting her from a darkspawn that tried to take advantage of this moment. Sten managed to reach in, scooping her up and pulling her to safety. He left her with Wynne before rejoining the fray.

Nyx was making another attempt to strike at the Changeling. It was clear he was weakening, the spells he’d used to call on so many allies wasting his mana. Blood magic was less of a drain on his magical energy, but it was making him breathe heavier and making his head lighter.

In a last attempt to kill Nyx, the Changeling put almost all his remaining energy into his next attack. He paralyzed her, then lifted her high. With a flick of his wrist, her body was pitched at the ground below. Against her armor came a loud _snap_.

“ _Nyx!_ ” Alistair screamed.

He charged at the Changeling, who was wheezing. The abomination was very near death. The Changeling laughed with abandon. His allies had nearly all crumbled around him. This would be his end.

“You fools don’t even know what’s coming for you!” the Changeling said, lifting his arms. “You will never be prepared. I’ve seen it in lifetime after lifetime. It’s all _meaningless!_ ”

Alistair released a charge of white light that caused the abomination to cry out in pain. The templars had called this ability Holy Smite, and in using it, Alistair saw justification for the flashy name in more ways than one. He kept his resolve, dashing forward to thrust his blade into the Changeling.

Nyx watched through blurred vision as the Changeling slid slowly down. Alistair drew his sword back out from the abomination’s chest. The Changeling went limp. Nyx’s eyes shut and left her world in silent darkness.

♢♢♢♢♢

In Cronus’ mind swam visions and sounds, tastes and touches he should not be able to know. It was all laid out, every possibility in branching paths like gnarled old tree roots that spread miles beneath the dirt. His head seared with every new image that flashed. Faces he didn’t know, words that made no sense until he could see the whole of the context, people that lived and died and suffered with seemingly no reason... He saw it all. Every possible outcome for their futures.

His eyes no longer bled, nor did his nose—though it had poured like a faucet when they first tore him away from the battlefield. Cronus had been writhing on his bedroll for hours. Wynne’s magic could only do so much, and there were others who were badly hurt. She was their only healer while he was incapacitated.

Cronus knew that Morrigan was at his side in intervals, her concern drawing her back every time before her frustration and fear dragged her away again. With thoughts of her came some of the strongest images. Some felt _too_ real, more real than any of the others. In the same way that Nyx knew her knowledge of the future had been memories of her own past, Cronus understood these vivid visions to be more personal. Memories given to him by the Changeling.

He had _been_ Cronus Amell, the first Grey Warden ever picked by Duncan to take on the Blight. He had succeeded in ending it, and had...he had a _child_ with Morrigan. Even this hadn’t stopped her from running when the battle was over. He saw that this was a truth evident in every lifetime. Before or after the siege on Denerim, Morrigan fled and went into hiding.

And Cronus, the first Cronus, had found her. He’d meant to go through the eluvian—a word the current Cronus had no context for—to be with his lover and their child. But something had gone wrong.

Blood. Blood, red and dripping, bloomed from her torso as she fell backwards through the glimmering mirror. The elven woman had, in a moment of panic, shot an arrow through Morrigan’s stomach. The portal closed before Cronus could cross through.

The flashing images came more violently after this scene, and Cronus cried out as his head burned and his muscles spasmed. The first Warden had gone all over the world, looking for Morrigan with no sign of her, but as he went, he studied. Time magic, necromancy, arts darker and darker as he delved into every source he could find. He went back.

He took the bodies of other mages to regain his youth when he needed, sometimes even reclaiming his own form from a Cronus in the past. As he tried to remedy things he knew to be mistakes, having lived long past the end of the Blight, he kept noticing fallacies. It was somewhere during this time he’d taken the name _Changeling_ , slipping into madness as his identity was lost.

The Changeling employed other people, men and women alike, to become the new Grey Warden and fight against the Blight. He watched their progress from afar, but each time something was not to his liking. Something went wrong, and he could never find perfect satisfaction.

The last he’d picked was a Dalish girl, Nyx Mahariel. He urged Duncan into the ruins, hiding among the humans she’d spared and pretending to be terrified. She had made many rookie mistakes, and the Changeling knew he’d have to reset the timeline all over again. Until Nyx had come looking for him.

That changed it all. That was why she was his favorite: Nyx reminded the Changeling of himself.

_“The girl has abandoned her morals, the only thing she felt she had of value left in life, just to get back to the moment before her biggest mistake. Just to hold the love of her life in her hands once more. This is familiar to you, is it not?”_

The desire demon had taunted him with this, but struck a deal. She’d show him the way to the perfect outcome, the best future, and give him a new ability. The Changeling had used it on Cronus, and tried once to use it on Wynne. Cronus was _splintered_ , his mind torn in hundreds of thousands of different realities, seeing all futures and all possibilities. What he lacked was the gift of the desire demon, to show him the best paths to take.

Night fell before Cronus’ brain began to settle, the visions becoming easier to suppress or call up as he willed it. He kept practicing doing this, his head aching but his determination to master this new ability kept strong. Cronus was drawn out of his attempts when his tent flap opened. No one had come to see him in over an hour. Morrigan was leaning in with a bowl of stew.

“You will need to eat to regain your strength,” she said when she caught his eyes. She seemed reluctant to meet them. Their deep blue color had once been beautiful, but she saw now that they were the same eyes as the Changeling had. Morrigan had understood the abomination’s ramblings well enough to know what he’d meant when he explained “who he was.”

Cronus didn’t know she’d figured it out on her own. “It was me,” he breathed, sitting up. “ _He_ was—”

“Not you,” Morrigan interrupted. She kneeled beside him, placing the bowl of food on the ground. “Some version of you, perhaps, but that abomination was not the man I see before me now.”

“To see me you have to actually look at me, you know,” Cronus said.

At this challenge, Morrigan raised her head. Cronus noted the strain in her expression, in her posture. Those were her same two yellow-gold eyes, but there was something in them that was entirely new. Morrigan did not frighten easily, and Cronus wasn’t even sure that fear was an appropriate descriptor for what he saw. But it was something akin to fear, at least.

“His magic had lasting effects on you,” Morrigan said. “What did he do? That spell he cast…’twas unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and my mother…” She scoffed. “I know many kinds of magic that would make the heads of your Circle Enchanters spin. But nothing like what that abomination did to you.”

“I’m splintered,” Cronus said. “That’s what he called it.” He explained all that he’d seen, all that he knew of the Changeling from the visions. Morrigan recoiled at many points of the story, but always leaned towards him again in the end, her curiosity greater than her disgust.

“He was as great a fool as Nyx, then?” Morrigan said with a dark laugh. “It seems idiots attract other idiots. ‘Twould explain her attraction to Alistair.”

“I never want to become that,” Cronus said, gripping the cloth of his robes. “I am not like him.”

“You may be,” Morrigan said. “Though your knowledge of his mistakes can prevent you from spiraling down the same dead end. Certainly keeping yourself from messing around with time magic ever again would be wise.”

Cronus swallowed air. “What about...the child?”

Morrigan shifted, moving to a more comfortable position because she was likely going to be here a while. She rested on her hip, one hand on the ground to keep her propped up. “I meant to tell you before we fought the Archdemon, but you must have already seen all of that in your visions. You know more of my future than I do, now.”

“I know nothing,” Cronus said. “None of it is set or certain. It’s just...variables. Potential.”

“That is still more certainty than I possess alone,” Morrigan countered. She shook her head. “My ritual must take place if we are to ensure that no Grey Warden sacrifices themselves. I had intended to use Alistair for this, but you could become a Warden, yet. However, I understand you have seen...more than this.”

Cronus nodded. He saw...he saw _everything_. He just wished he could show Morrigan the futures they could have. There were many of them—the exact number being quite encouraging to see—where she loved him. Cronus felt a warmth flourish in his chest. He was a lovelorn fool and he knew it, but he would not deny his feelings. He wanted her to love him, to choose for him to stay at her side. Cronus saw times where this devotion was his undoing, and times where it was what kept him alive.

His hand sparked. Morrigan moved away.

“That was…” she said, staring at his fingers. “That energy was similar to what the abomination used.”

Cronus lifted the hand that had crackled with magic, willing it back again. It was very close to the spell that splintered him, but far weaker. Cronus wanted to test it. “I think I can show you,” he said. “All that I have seen. All that could be for your future. Would you like me to try?”

Morrigan stared at his hand. “Are you mad? I do not want to end up bedridden for a full day as you were,” she said, but Cronus recognized the temptation in her gaze.

“It won’t hurt you,” Cronus promised. He saw that it was true. He saw how to control the magic before he’d even done it, and watched himself mere moments in the future doing what he was hoping he could now. “I know it won’t. I can control it. I know how.”

A few silent moments later, Morrigan nodded. “Show me.” Cronus pressed his fingers against her cheek and let the magic loose. She locked eyes with him as he showed her all that he wanted for their future. Cronus chose the best paths to show her first, before revealing their other choices over time. She kept asking to see more, the good and the bad, so she was prepared for anything they might have to expect.

Finally, Morrigan released a sigh. “‘Tis a lot left for us to do, then.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Hera was still sore, even after drinking two whole potions and chewing on some elfroot. Wynne had knit her broken bones back together somewhat, but couldn’t complete the job while there were other injuries that needed tending to. Sten had gotten a few arrows in his side and a dent in his armor that left a bruise. Zevran had cuts from darkspawn blades, though luckily none had been coated in poison or taint.

Others had varying degrees of cuts, bruises, and even a few burns from fire magic and flaming arrows. Perseus was better, enough that he could hobble weakly around before lying back down to whine pathetically in front of Nyx’s tent. She had gotten the worst injuries of the lot.

Hera would have been lying if she claimed she wasn’t worried. Yet, it was hard to be too concerned when Alistair was moping much like Nyx’s mabari. It was a piteous sight. He’d refused healing from Wynne, insisting that the healer save her magic for Nyx. Alistair had a few decently large wounds of his own, but stuck to poultices and bandages. He would rather tough out the pain than waste Wynne’s talents on him.

“She’s strong, Alistair,” Leliana said gently. “She will pull through.”

“I probably made it worse,” Alistair mumbled, face in his hands.

Hera was lucky that she understood anything he’d been saying. “You did not,” she said, far less gently than Leliana. “I have never seen a person picked up as carefully as you did with her. There is no way you could have hurt Nyx.”

“We were just…” Alistair said, pausing to sniffle. “Things were only _just_ starting to get better. What if she’s…? What if she…?!”

“Stop it!” Hera said.

“Hera,” Leliana said, the beginnings of a reprimand teasing in her tone.

“Nyx will not _die_ , Alistair,” Hera said, tongue still sharp despite Leliana’s attempt to calm her. “She won’t.”

“How can you know that?” Alistair said, finally lifting his head.

“I don’t!” Hera said. “But I’d rather believe that than think she’s a lost cause.”

Alistair stayed looking at Hera for a moment, before going right back to moping. “I wish I could believe that, too.”

Hera groaned. She was getting nowhere with this. She stood, intending to march over and ask Wynne exactly what was so complicated about healing Nyx that it was keeping her so long, when Cronus burst out of his tent. Everyone looked over. Morrigan was just behind him, though she didn’t follow as he left. Cronus moved with purpose across the campsite.

“If anyone was going to die,” Hera said, “I thought for sure it would be him.”

“Where’s he going?” Artemis asked.

No one answered, all of them watching raptly. Cronus crossed them without so much as a glance, then walked to Nyx’s tent. He went in, still silent.

“What is he doing?” Hera said, brow creasing. She wasn’t Cronus’ biggest fan, but he was a healer. It was rare of him to so easily volunteer his help, especially sans-grunting.

“With two healers, she’ll have to be alright,” Leliana said with optimism. She tried her hardest to look cheerful, like that alone would spread the hope through the rest of them. Not even Artemis perked up. Leliana slouched back down. “She will be.”

“I know that,” Hera said. “It just still hurts to move much.”

There were a series of muttered agreements from the others. It was late and they were all injured, even if some of the wounds were better classified as “boo-boos.” They needed to sleep, and sleep for a while if they were going to be able to set out like they needed to in the morning. It was concern for their leader that kept them all awake. But even Hera was starting to yawn.

“Come, my dear,” Zevran said, extending a hand. “It does no good to sit here and fret. The Warden is resilient, and the mages are talented. We can check on her tomorrow.”

Hera took his hand, knowing she had no reason to argue. Sleep would be so delightful right then, and Zevran’s grip was so soft her fingers actually improved at his touch. If there was cause for disagreement, it was nothing she could think of.

Leliana and Artemis agreed with this unspoken sentiment, retreating to their own tent. Alistair was the only one who stayed, sitting on the fallen tree trunk they’d been using like a bench. Perseus howled softly, then trotted over to Alistair. At least this way, they’d have company that could relate to the pain they felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to update this week! Sorry I'm a little later than usual tonight (*´･Д･)


	29. Stitched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [For the fourth section.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_HKjBbfIm78)

Nyx hated it, but Wynne kept insisting that she try to walk around as much as she could on her own. She couldn’t even wear her armor or carry Stargazer while she was too weak to hold the weight. It was luck and the talent of the two healers that Nyx had not been paralyzed. She knew she ought to feel grateful that she could move at all, but all she could think about was how pathetic she felt.

Nyx was a Grey Warden. Grey Wardens were not meant to walk with a makeshift pair of crutches with the need to stop every so often to rest and chew some elfroot for the pain. If the Archdemon saw her now, it would throw its head back and laugh.

At least walking with Hera wasn’t so bad. The red-haired woman had never been great at empathy, and Nyx was finding that she actually needed someone like that right now. Every time Nyx caught the sad look on Alistair’s face she felt a hundred times more useless. She didn’t want pity; she wanted to be _better_.

With their goal still set on the Brecilian Forest, Nyx was hoping the Dalish would be able to help speed along the healing process. Dalish healers were better than any others Nyx had ever known. When she’d caught the Blight sickness after finding the tainted eluvian, it was Dalish healers—particularly Keeper Marethari—who had given her enough time and strength to reach Ostagar and take part in the Joining. Hera didn’t share that specific memory, but she shared many of childhood illnesses that their Keeper had helped with.

“If anyone has a better chance of helping out, it’s the Dalish,” Hera agreed. “Hey, maybe you can convince Cronus to do that splintery magic on Keeper Lanaya. If she knows you’re actually elvhen at heart—”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Nyx said. “Too complicated and too many things to explain. I just want to be able to walk normally again and wear my armor. I will _not_ face Loghain like this.”

“You could always try tripping him with your crutch. Show him who’s boss,” Hera said, failing her attempt not to snicker. Nyx glared, but her cheek twitched into a smirk despite herself. Hera’s amusement was infectious.

Nyx’s back was starting to ache again. The bones were mended as best as Cronus and Wynne could heal them, but there were still a few hairline fractures and sore muscles. Cronus had gotten the idea of drawing a rune of paralysis on her bandages to make them work like a cast and keep Nyx from injuring herself further. The ones around her torso were like that, but not the ones around her neck.

There were still faint signs of bruising, Wynne having focused her efforts on more serious injuries instead of ridding Nyx of these. Hera could almost see the shape of the Changeling’s hand against Nyx’s pale skin, but only when the bandages were off. They served the purpose of hiding the ugly purple and yellow marks, though Wynne had rubbed in a bit of salve to soothe any residual pain.

Nyx stumbled, but Hera was right there to catch her. The whole group stopped immediately. Nyx sighed. They’d all been just waiting for the next time she needed to rest.

“I’m fine!” Nyx said, loud enough for most of them to hear. The clank of armor alerted her to his presence before she even heard his voice.

“You alright?” Alistair asked.

“Fine,” Nyx repeated.

She adjusted her footing, shifting her weight off of Hera, who stepped away, and leaned back onto the crutches. Alistair had been ever attentive since they started off in the morning. They’d been delayed an extra day, staying at their campsite to allow everyone more time to heal. It was obvious that Nyx needed the most time, but her insistence that they had to reach Denerim as quickly as possible set them forth.

Alistair had argued, but only in the shortest of bursts. He’d even offered to carry Nyx at one point, which made Wynne break into a lecture about keeping her mobile and on her feet. Nyx had laughed at the time, but as the day dragged on, her patience with her body wore thin.

“The sun will be setting soon. Maybe we should find somewhere to set camp,” Alistair said.

“Not yet,” Nyx said. “We’ve got at least an hour more of daylight by my estimate. We can cover a great deal of distance in that time. I don’t want to waste another second getting to Denerim.”

“You heard our fearless commander,” Hera said. “If we hurry we could reach the edge of the forest by nightfall.”

“I don’t want you to push yourself,” Alistair said.

Nyx’s gaze softened. “I’m not, I promise. It barely even hurts anymore.” It hurt like the Void, actually, but the white lie made Alistair stop tensing his shoulders. Today he had hung up his hat of a puppy and switched into one for a worrisome mama bird. It alternated between insufferable and ridiculously cute.

They started walking again. When Alistair was a few feet ahead and out of earshot, Hera leaned over to Nyx. “So...things are better I take it?” Hera said with a grin. She had managed to stay mum about the subject most of the day, but she couldn’t help it anymore.

“I’m not sure,” Nyx admitted. “It isn’t like it used to be.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Hera said. “You’re different people now. It’s only natural that your relationship is different, too.”

Nyx smiled. “Very astute.”

“Shut up,” Hera said. “I’d hit you for that, but you’re already injured enough.”

“So are you,” Nyx countered, pointing at the sling on Hera’s arm.

“I could still beat you up if I wanted.”

“Yes, that would be a show. Orlesian Chevaliers have nothing on me trying to hit you with my crutch.”

Hera snorted at the image that floated up in her mind. It would have been quite the sight to see. Then she ended up just laughing, because she was happy. Hera was really, truly happy, and she never would have predicted that. Scooby made a noise in his confusion, and Perseus sneezed as the two women broke into a sudden fit of giggling laughter.

Behind them, Wynne was shaking her head. There was still a mystery to their closeness, but what Hera had said in Orzammar seemed the best description. Nyx was Hera’s sister.

♢♢♢♢♢

“By the time you leave here, she’ll be strong enough to wield that blade of hers again, I swear it,” Keeper Lanaya said.

“ _Ma serannas_ , Keeper,” Hera said. “Your people have done so much for us, I only wish we had something more to offer in return.”

“The Grey Wardens are already doing all they can to end the Blight. I think that is enough to warrant our assistance,” Lanaya said.

Artemis shuffled awkwardly behind Hera. She’d heard a lot about the Dalish in her time in the Alienage, but Hera—and Nyx if one saw fit to count her—was far from a proper representation for what they were like. Now that Artemis was here among them, she was disheartened. Those who saw her face, bare of the marks of the Dalish, knew she was from one of the human cities and scowled because of it.

These were not the freedom fighters who would rescue the elves from their suffering, as stories and legends liked to promise. Impressive as their aravels and statues were, they were nothing more than symbols. Artemis caught their eyes and knew she was as good as one of the humans’ dogs to them.

She didn’t want to stay nearby while they stared at her. When Wynne asked for some people to go with her and look for Anerin, Artemis was first to volunteer. Leliana was right at her side, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. She offered a soft smile to Artemis, the lowered arch of her brows indicating that Leliana knew something was wrong. Artemis shook her head. She’d explain later, but now was not the time.

Oghren and Shale decided to tag along as well, seeing as many of the others were not in a state fit to fight. Wolves and other beasts still prowled the Brecilian Forest, so caution was necessary. Wynne kept up front because she was the one who could identify Anerin when they found him, Shale and Oghren stayed by her side to keep the healer safe. The two archers fell behind.

“What’s on your mind?” Leliana asked, pushing back the single braid that decorated her short red hair. Artemis had been the one to do Leliana’s hair most mornings, and Leliana always returned the favor. She liked to give Artemis more showy styles of braids than she was used to having. Today, Artemis sported a fishbone braid that ended at her mid-back.

“The Dalish aren’t what I expected them to be,” Artemis said, quiet enough to keep the thought private, shared only between the two of them.

“I had heard many stories of the Dalish before we came here. I can’t say for certain that you have heard similar tales. What do the elves in the Alienage say about them?” Leliana said.

“That they are the best hope we have of ever regaining our lands,” Artemis said. “Those are the most optimistic thoughts. Many revere them. A few are more skeptical, thinking that living in the woods just to defy the humans is foolish and pointless. But even the skeptics see the Dalish as the only chance for elves to get back something of our past.”

“Do you not think that anymore?” Leliana said.

“I don’t know what to think. They have kept our history, our language, and the gods alive, but they look at me and…” Artemis heard her voice starting to quake, and fell silent. She’d not meant to get emotional like that.

“If they can look at you and see someone that is anything less than magnificent, then they are fools,” Leliana said, taking Artemis’ hand again.

Artemis exhaled, the ghost of a laugh in her breath. “It’s not that they think badly of me,” Artemis said. “They don’t seem to care for anyone outside of their people. I might be an elf, but I’m not one of _them._ They aren’t our hope. They are just another group that has chosen to lie to themselves about the state of things.”

Leliana tightened her grip. “I think they are doing more than that. Stories and history have a power of their own. So long as those are kept alive, not all is lost. Even if things do not change, it is something to hold onto.”

“That is all we have,” Artemis said.

“Can it not be enough?”

“It isn’t,” Artemis said. “If people in Denerim saw you with me they would assume I was paid for.”

Leliana flushed. “That can’t be… I never thought about it like that.”

“It’s alright, Leliana,” Artemis said. The conversation had taken a darker turn than she intended, and now it felt like she was accusing Leliana directly. “I would make a terrible prostitute, so...um… You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But I don’t want people to think of you like that,” Leliana said, her eyes on the ground in front of her. “Or people to think of me as someone who would treat you like that.”

Artemis pulled the other woman closer. “When it comes to me, the only person whose opinion I care about is yours. So the only person you should worry about is me, and I already love you.”

Leliana’s face managed to grow even pinker at that. “You… Really?” Artemis nodded. “Well I mean I… Oh Maker I wasn’t prepared to… I was thinking of being more romantic and—”

The roar of a bear ahead made the two archers snap back into attention. They put their conversation on pause, drawing their bows and snapping the strings to send arrows into the body of the angry animal. Oghren swung his axe, burying it in the bear’s head, ending that little encounter.

“Sodding wildlife,” Oghren grunted. “Not as bad as a Bronto, but just as angry as one.”

Artemis and Leliana giggled, moving in to retrieve any arrows that hadn’t broken. Their moment had passed, but both of them were still focused on what Leliana had been trying to say. Artemis would have simply asked Leliana to continue speaking, but the bear had reminded them that other things were going on. The conversation could wait, badly as Artemis wanted to know what the other woman would tell her.

Anerin was camping not too far from the old hermit, who was still doing his crazy old hermit thing. Wynne waved to be polite, but this only made the man mumble something with suspicion in his eyes. They hurried past him and towards the elf they found, hunched over a campfire and slowly cooking what appeared to be a quail. Hard to tell for sure, as the thing had been plucked and soaked in something that was crusting over the top in a delicious brown color.

“Anerin?” Wynne said as she approached.

The elven mage turned to look at them, and gaped. “Is that… _Wynne_?”

Leliana leaned over to Artemis to whisper, “Let’s give them a bit of privacy, shall we?”

They found a space far enough away from both Anerin and the crazy hermit who was mumbling something about his stump. The two women sat, Artemis catching a curious (and somewhat lewd) expression on Oghren’s face before her scrunched up, grumpy face made him turn his attention elsewhere. Shale stayed near the two mages as they chatted.

“About what you said earlier,” Leliana began, laying her hand over Artemis’. Any touch or caress meant something to them. Every little loving gesture or sign of affection made their hearts flutter. “I wanted to do this during the right moment, to make this very romantic but… I love you, Artemis. Though I am now horribly jealous that you got to say it first.”

Artemis giggled. “Would you mind if I said it again?” Leliana shook her head, bringing her face close. “I love you, too.”

They kissed. It was brief and chaste, but there was an underlying heat neither of them could deny. They would be sure to continue _that_ when they reached camp again.

♢♢♢♢♢

Their visit to the Dalish had been short enough that Nyx had everyone set off again, camping a few miles north, by the river. Denerim was just a few days away. Nyx was beginning to feel optimistic. She knew what they needed to do, and had been allowed to wear her armor and Stargazer again, though only for show. Wynne told her not to even try fighting if they came across something.

Which meant it was inevitable that they did run into some bandits, only for Nyx to have to step aside and let the others handle it. She could at least shout commands and survey the scene. It reminded her a lot of when she’d been an archer, watching from afar and catching any attempt at a sneak attack before it could happen.

Now it was dark, and most of the group was chatting around the fire as they ate their dinner. Artemis had been lucky enough to catch a deer, so venison was on the menu that night. Everyone happily ate their fill, before Hera surprised everyone with fresh fruits, compliments of the Dalish. They had to split what they’d gotten, but no one cared as juice dribbled down their chins. They would eat finer things in Eamon’s Denerim estate, but this sweet indulgence had a few people moaning.

Cronus had half an apple, and chewed on that and his thoughts. It took an extraordinary amount of effort to focus his mind on certain visions, or even to repress them altogether. It would have helped tremendously if he’d known what to look for, instead of pulling up scenario after scenario.

He found he could see not only his own future, but the future of others. He’d already gone through most of Morrigan’s and Nyx’s. They were important in Cronus’ life, and thus more immediate to his concerns. He peeked into the others’ futures, seeing things varying from terribly mundane to...let’s just say Leliana wouldn’t be done fighting just because the Archdemon lay dead.

Cronus had been searching through every future he could think to look into. Sometimes unfamiliar faces popped up; an elf with pale tattoos covering his dark skin, a dwarf who actually knew how to use a razor, a Qunari with some “unique” hobbies, and another elf with a hand that glowed with a brilliant green light. She was one of the more interesting of the people he didn’t know, particularly with how his visions became more difficult to access when they concerned her.

Yet, as he summoned up more of these different futures, his head began hurting. Cronus had to stop before his eyes started to bleed again, or worse. This ability was a boon, but if he couldn’t master it without giving himself an aneurysm, then it wouldn’t be much of a real help at all.

“You’re going to kill yourself if you keep going on like that,” Morrigan said.

Cronus was holding his head, which made it obvious that he’d hurt himself again. “There’s still a lot I haven’t seen. And I think I might have even seen Flemeth again.”

Morrigan stiffened, but relaxed again with a sigh. “‘Tis unsurprising, considering the power mother wields. That she knew to plan around this only reassures me that we are right to be wary of her.”

“I did try looking into her future, but it’s difficult to see. Some of them are like that,” Cronus said. “There might be something that Flemeth can do to block me out.”

“Then she knows about you. Or will, it does not matter. We still cannot use your sight against her,” Morrigan said with a scowl.

Cronus wanted to promise he’d find a way through the blockade, but Morrigan was never put at ease with falsehoods. She knew too well that he would not be able to do something as simply as saying that he would. Cronus had a better idea.

“Perhaps we should go to my tent,” he purred. “Get your mind off of this?”

That was the usual method of problem solving. Most nights, it worked pretty damn well. Sometimes they didn’t even wait for the sun to fall before they tangled together, and they certainly never cared who noticed. When Morrigan stood, Cronus expected her “come hither” look. But she wouldn’t even look at him.

“I...I think not,” Morrigan said.

“Is something wrong?” Cronus asked. It wasn’t like the conversation they’d been having was pleasant, but that her eyes could only lock with his in an icy glare concerned him.

“Because something must be amiss with me if I refuse your charms?” she scoffed. “You’ll have to forgive me if I do not leap at your command like a trained warhound.”

“I didn’t mean it as a command,” Cronus said. “I don’t think of you like that. I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to make you think that I do.”

“It isn’t… I simply… I do not wish to discuss it. Leave me be,” Morrigan said, and off she went into the thick canvas of her tent. Cronus did not bother to try and follow. If she needed to be alone, he would respect that, even if it frustrated him.

Which it did. Cronus now needed his mind off of _two_ things. He stalked over to the other side of the camp, where judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, Zevran had just finished telling a dirty joke, because those always received a variety of responses from uproarious laughter (Hera) and vague disgust (Wynne). Nyx was somewhere in between, knowing she ought to be appalled, so she bit her lip to fight the fit of giggles that threatened her composure.

Cronus was planning on speaking to the Warden, telling her more things he had seen of her future, since Nyx was now so used to being prepared. However, Cronus stopped short. Nyx was leaning against Alistair and he was being so tender, running his fingers absently through her hair. When Alistair caught a snag, Nyx yelped, and he spilled into a puddle of apologies, which only made her laugh. Cronus groaned.

Things were back to normal for them, better for the bard, and stable for the assassin. Which meant Cronus was the only person whose relationship was rocky again. The cheery looks on their faces filled him with disgust.

Before he got too close, Cronus changed course and headed towards the river. Maybe he could freeze the whole thing or even just boil it away. Maybe he could freeze one half and boil the other, leaving the fish to decide which was worse. Or maybe he’d drown himself in it and not have to live with this nonsense any longer.

Which meant that, in the end, Cronus sat himself on the bank and scowled at the water as it flowed lazily past him. He couldn’t entertain himself with more visions (for risk of a headache worse than the one he already had), couldn’t spend time with the one person he wanted to, and the others were having the time of their lives. Cronus knew there was a future for him here, and that was what upset him the most.

Perhaps he was the unlucky sod in a timeline where he died from the Joining. It would just be typical of his life thus far if that was how it all ended. At least in those few lives he’d seen where that was his fate, it looked quick.

Cronus concentrated his magic, and set fire to the group of mosquitos that had started to curiously buzz around his head.

♢♢♢♢♢

Everyone else was asleep. Within the next day, they would reach Denerim, and while most of the group had decided that rest was necessary given all they would need to do, Nyx and Alistair were restless. They had been sitting by the fire until the very last ember died. They were left in the dark.

The two of them sat close, reluctant to move or even speak. There was something serene in sitting like this, not overcome by silence, but welcoming it. The world around would keep its pace, but they could be still.

Finally, Alistair tilted his head back, staring at the full moon. Besides that, only the stars and a few fireflies served to illuminate them. When he turned, he could just barely see the outline of Nyx’s face in a pale blue, then a flash of her eyes as a firefly buzzed past. She was watching him as well.

Nyx lifted a hand to trace his cheek down to his jaw. The past few days had been spent recrossing the boundaries between them, in gentle touches and soft words they were ready to take back if they’d been spoken too soon. Every movement was in caution to ensure that it was right.

“How’s your back?” Alistair asked.

Nyx was overfamiliar with the question by now. “It doesn’t hurt,” Nyx said.

“Good,” he breathed. His thumb dragged down the side of her neck. “May I…?”

Nyx pursed her lips, but ultimately nodded. Alistair found the end of the bandage, tugging gently to release the adhesive, then unraveled it slowly with two hands. The bruises were mostly yellow now, with small blotches of pinkish-red on the worst parts. He touched them gently as he could, stopping when she flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said.

“It didn’t hurt,” Nyx said. “Just a reflex.”

Alistair swallowed. Nyx had always been strong, but that didn’t make body her any less fragile than any other human’s. He would drive his blade into the Changeling again if he could. The Changeling was to blame for these marks on her, for the pain she’d been suffering through, and for the night when he didn’t dare to sleep until Wynne told him—no doubt in her voice—that Nyx would live.

Alistair pulled her face close to kiss her, just as careful as he’d been when touching her bruise. Then he brought his lips down to kiss the tender, discolored flesh of her neck. Nyx shivered. Alistair faced her again.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he said. “I was terrified you’d be gone before I could...before I was able to tell you I love you.”

Nyx’s heart swelled. She kissed him back, but her kiss was needier and more desperate than his. Her teeth grazed his lip before their mouths parted, and she leaned her forehead against his to whisper, “I was afraid of dying before telling you the same.”

What was more, Nyx had been afraid of _dying_. The emptiness that made death seem so simple and easy once before was filled now. When she’d faced the Archdemon, her mind was focused on all that she’d lost. Now she only saw the things she’d gained. Nyx held onto those things every day, even when it was the only thing that brought her through to the other end.

Alistair kissed her again. His lips were soft and his breath was warm. Nyx focused on feeling his mouth against hers, his tongue against hers, his body against hers. Never again would she allow herself the opportunity to miss this. Every chance she got she would spend by his side.

His hands clung to her hips and lifted her into his lap, her legs on either side of his waist. The heat only rose as Nyx trailed her lips down his jaw, kissing Alistair’s stubble then kissing his neck and sighing against his skin. Alistair moaned, the sound blessedly soft.

He lifted her again, pushing her off only so he could stand and give her his hand. Nyx took it and followed without question to his tent. Perseus tried to come along and she giggled, commanding him to stay. He whined but made no further protest on the matter.

Alistair sat back on his bedroll and Nyx straddled his waist like she’d done before. Their mouths met and Nyx hummed with pleasure. The gentle vibration of her lips sent a shock of arousal through him. Alistair slid his hands below her shirt, running the tips of his fingers against her bandaged back. He was careful, but still at one point Nyx cringed.

“Sore spot,” she said. “It’s fine.”

“You sure? Maybe we shouldn’t...do this, yet, if you’re still hurt,” Alistair said.

“No,” Nyx said, “I want to. I think I just need to be in a different position.”

Alistair still managed to blush, even with all the things they had already done. Nyx giggled when she noticed and pecked his cheek. She moved to lie on her back, but this hurt as it had the past few nights. She’d taken to sleeping on her stomach, which didn’t lean weight into her spine. Alistair helped her back up, kissing her knuckles.

“Stay like this,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”

Nyx wasn’t sure what he meant, but allowed him to take the lead. He removed his shirt, then helped her out of her pants and her smalls. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, her eyes fixed on Alistair as he lifted one of her legs, squeezing underneath her thigh and kissing the inside of it. Her sex tingled as he drew his lips closer to her crotch.

“Alistair,” Nyx moaned. She was leaning on one hand now, the other rubbing the back of his neck to encourage these delightful things he was doing. When Alistair brought his mouth over her clitoris and sucked hard, Nyx was incapable of repressing the cry that had built up in her.

He flicked her with his tongue twice, then licked slowly up one side only to drag the tip back down around the other end. Her hand gripped hard against the back of his head at this. Alistair repeated the action a few more times before placing another kiss against the hardened bud. He lowered his face to lap at her entrance, where her excitement had flooded outward. He moaned with his tongue inside of Nyx.

Her toes squirmed and curled as Alistair pushed further in against her walls. As he flicked his tongue her hips bucked and she gasped. The sudden movement had sent another shooting pain up her back, but Nyx winced and resettled. Her hand moved from his head to his arm, tugging until he’d placed a palm against her lower spine. The light pressure helped.

“Don’t stop,” Nyx urged. “Please, Alistair. I think I’m close.”

Alistair hummed an acknowledgement with his mouth still pressed to her sex, which sent delightful little tingles through her. He licked at her hole once more, then lifted his tongue back to her clitoris and returned to the circular motions he’d been making before. With the hand that wasn’t against her back, he pushed a finger inside of her to pump slowly, adding a second finger when Nyx voiced her pleasure.

“ _Yes,_ oh Maker, yes,” Nyx said in dulcet sighs. “Alistair, I’m so _close_. Please just… _please!_ ”

Alistair moaned and sucked on her clit at the same time as he reached his fingers in to touch the innermost part of her sex. Her muscles clenched around him as she came, a tremor rushing through her as she cried in ecstasy. Alistair pulled his fingers out, licking as the juices dripped down. He sucked his fingers clean, then lifted himself to kiss her deeply.

“You taste so _good_ ,” he said, and kissed her again. They stayed this way for a while, lazily pressing their lips together and parting for moments only long enough to take a breath.

Finally Nyx tore herself away, gripping his erection through his clothes. “I think I know how to take care of this.” Alistair groaned as she fondled him. It felt amazing even with the layers of cloth separating him from her skin.

Nyx directed him until they were both fully nude, save for Nyx’s bandages. She was on her stomach, using his pillow to keep her propped in a comfortable position. Alistair hovered over her, rubbing his cock to make sure he was fully hard before pressing the tip against her opening.

“Are you…?” Alistair asked, face flushed.

“Yes,” Nyx said. “Please, Alistair. I want you to fuck me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He buried his cock inside her, pushing in slow. Nyx panted until he was all the way in, and her breath hitched in a small squeak. Alistair pulled out again, leaving just an inch of his erection between her folds, then gave a thrust, much quicker than before. Nyx shouted before her voice fell away in a series of babbling moans, allowing Alistair to find his pace.

He never leaned his weight into her, for fear of putting too much stress on Nyx’s back, but he did bring himself close enough to lightly kiss the back of her neck and her shoulders. Her own hands curled under her body, teasing and pinching her nipples while Alistair penetrated her from behind.

He managed to hold off on orgasming until he felt her squeeze against him again, like she’d done with his fingers before. Alistair had to clench his hands into fists to keep from buckling and falling onto Nyx. When he’d finished completely, he eased his cock out before positioning himself beside her on his back.

Nyx turned her face to him, her breath heavy, and her lips curled into a smile just before he kissed her again. “Do you know what the Dalish call their lovers?” she said, her voice quieter than it had been while they made love.

“No,” Alistair said. He brushed a piece of black hair from her face, where it had stuck with sweat. “But I am hoping it’s something nice and not ‘nug-humping garbage heap’ like Oghren’s lady friend called him.”

Nyx giggled, and leaned on her side as much as she could without hurting herself. “ _Ma vhenan_ ,” she said. “It means ‘my heart.’”

“ _Ma vhenan_ ,” Alistair repeated in a whisper. “I like that.”

Nyx kissed him. “So do I. _Atish ashir, ma vhenan_.”

“What does that mean?”

“Essentially, goodnight.” She could not curl against him as she normally would, but Alistair took her hand as she drifted off. Just to know that he was there beside her was enough. Nyx slept with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Atish ashir_ \- More literally it is “peace in sleep” since I was aiming for “sleep peacefully,” but colloquially it would be understood in the same way as “goodnight” which is why she gives him that translation.
> 
> Though in that it was another “why is this not a word they already have an official translation for” moment. The other one being “please.” What do they say when they need someone to pass the salt? Just “pass the salt” with no “please” at the end? Do the Dalish have no _manners?_
> 
> Ahem, in other news, they’re finally together again! Yay!


	30. That's Politics

They’d barely entered Eamon’s estate in Denerim when one of the guards announced a group of visitors. Word traveled fast in the city, it seemed. Hera’s nostrils flared, her whole body tensed in rage as she saw the face of one of the men who had entered the foyer.

“Howe,” she growled. Nyx put an arm in front of Hera, shaking her head slightly. This wasn’t the time to attack. They needed to keep cool, play the game for now. Not that Howe would even be able to understand why a red-haired Dalish woman had leaped at him to claw his eyes out.

Loghain and Howe, though mostly the latter, did their best to antagonize the Wardens and Eamon, but they were level-headed and downright polite the whole way through. Ser Cauthrien looked prepared to whip her blade out at a moment’s notice, but there was no need. Nyx reminded them that the darkspawn threat was serious enough to destroy Lothering, which should have been proof enough that the nation ought to stand united. Yet, they still did not see or understand the truth in her warnings, or refused to. It was the stubbornness that upset Nyx the most.

Still, they did not stay long. They needed time enough to deliver their threats, then they left. Hera released a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding.

“I did not expect Loghain to show his face so soon,” Arl Eamon admitted. “And Arl Howe… You did well, Warden Nyx. Not many can stand before someone who has committed such evils against them and remain so calm.”

Nyx glanced to Hera, who was proof enough of this statement as she marched away, probably to punch something. Everyone was settled into their rooms, a few of them agreeing to share given that there were fewer rooms here than in Redcliffe castle.

The servants didn’t bat an eye at any of the couplings, except for Nyx and Alistair. Word had already spread of who he was, or rather, who his father was. If word reached Arl Eamon, he might disapprove, but Nyx knew that even if she were to ask the servants to keep quiet, they wouldn’t do so without coin. In fact, knowing that Nyx wanted it to be kept secret might just make them more chatty.

She waited, pacing in her room, until an elven servant fetched her and told her there was important news. Erlina had already come, then. Alistair had been speaking with Eamon in preparation for the Landsmeet, so he was already with them when Nyx arrived. The elf made herself scarce as soon as Nyx was through the doorway. Eamon was a good man, but there were still shems in the estate that would mistreat an elven servant if they caused delay.

Nyx and Alistair agreed to help Erlina without any suspicion, already prepared for the news that she delivered. If their calm was out of place, Erlina did not show that she thought it was. Nyx was about ready to leave when Alistair spoke again.

“I should go without my fellow Grey Warden,” he said. This time Nyx showed true shock.

“What are you talking about? Why?” she asked.

“Arl Eamon, we encountered a powerful abomination on the road while we made our way to Denerim, and Nyx sustained an injury that is still healing. In case things go wrong on this mission, it would be best to leave her here, so she doesn’t put strain on it.”

“Absolutely not,” Nyx said. “This is too important.”

“Are you able to fight, Warden?” Arl Eamon asked.

Nyx hesitated. She could carry her sword and wear her armor, but lifting it and swinging it still caused pain, sometimes bad enough that it brought her to her knees. She grimaced. “Not as well as I am used to,” Nyx said, unable to look Eamon in the eye.

“Then perhaps Alistair is right, as are you. This is too important to risk your safety over,” Arl Eamon said. Erlina cleared her throat, and Eamon quickly added, “...or Anora’s.”

“If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to speak with Alistair for a moment,” Nyx said. Eamon nodded and she damn near yanked his arm to pull him away. When they were far enough from the other two to be well out of earshot, she hissed at Alistair, “You know what’s going to happen there! Howe is going to be there, and Ser Cauthrien. You’ll be taken to Fort Drakon _on your own_ if I don’t go with you.”

“You said Leliana staged a rescue for us before,” Alistair reminded her, stroking her cheek. “You can do that again. I know you would never let anything bad happen.”

“Promise me you’ll take Cronus,” Nyx said. “And promise that I can still go with you to the Alienage later.”

“I will,” Alistair said, brushing her bangs aside to kiss her forehead. “And I wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind for that.”

“And promise me that Hera kills Howe.” Her face was dark. “She needs to, for both of us.”

Alistair simply nodded. He was certain Hera wouldn’t let anyone else get their hands on Howe.

“And don’t you dare get yourself hurt,” Nyx said, her voice falling to something near a whimper.

Alistair held up a hand like he was swearing a sacred oath. “If I return and there is even the tiniest scratch on me, you can do _whatever you wish_ with me.” His grin was wicked.

Nyx shook her head, but just had to smile. “I plan on it,” she said, then leaned close. “I already know what I’ll want you to do with your tongue.” She slid out of his grasp, leaving him like that. If she had to be left behind, Alistair would have to deal with being away from her with that in the forefront of his mind.

♢♢♢♢♢

Hera had agreed with Alistair’s decision to leave Nyx behind. Nyx pushed herself to her limits when she was given the chance, so the best choice was to not offer that opportunity in the first place. At least she was able to keep busy with the others who stayed behind, bringing the drake and dragon scales to the smith Artemis had told them about a while back. Many of them had fine armor already, but there was nothing like a suit made from the scales and hide of a dragon.

It was also nice because Hera wasn’t upset with Alistair anymore. She teased him relentlessly, sure, but it was out of love instead of spite. Watching him grow flustered as Hera asked how his night had been was hilarious. _“Why was Nyx screaming so much? Was she in pain?”_ Alistair declared he didn’t wish to talk about it and hurried forward awkwardly.

The fun was over when Zevran stopped short, staring up at a man on the steps ahead of them.

“I see one of the Grey Wardens, but where’s the other one? Looks like I’ll have to find her later,” the man said. Alistair was already preparing to reach for his sword. “In any case, the Crows send their greetings, once again.”

“Taliesen,” Zevran said. “So they sent you? Or did you volunteer for the job?”

“I volunteered, of course,” Taliesen said, an eerily familiar sly grin on his face. Hera had seen that same look on Zevran many times before. “When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself.”

“Is that so? Well, here I am, in the flesh,” Zevran said. He did not sound impressed.

“You can return with me, Zevran,” Taliesen said. “I know why you did this, and I don’t blame you. It’s not too late. Come back and we’ll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake.”

“Because the Crows were so great to him before,” Hera said, rolling her eyes. “Please tell me you aren’t considering his offer.”

“Not even for a moment,” Zevran said, with a level of earnestness she’d not anticipated. “I’m sorry my old friend, but the answer is no. I’m not coming back...and you should have stayed in Antiva.”

They were rushed within seconds by other assassins of varying levels of skill. Many of them were quite deadly, already causing Alistair to break his promise to come back unharmed. Even then, the group was only outnumbered by a few men, and they had magic on their side that the Crows did not.

Cronus was the only mage along for the mission, but he was really all they needed. He stayed back this time, leaving his blade sheathed and favoring his staff. A fireball set many of the enemy on fire, reducing them to screams and panicked flailing. Cronus laughed and cast ice spells on the other assassins, freezing two of them in place. “Too easy.”

Artemis and Leliana took advantage of the frozen enemies and sent arrows into the ice. Hera took care of another assassin that was causing her a bit of trouble, with Scooby right beside her. Zevran faced Taliesen himself. If anyone was going to kill him, it had to be Zevran.

They met blow after blow, their similar training making them a fairly even match. Every few strikes, one of the two of them would slip, leaving room for the other to reach in and slice with his dagger. Zevran noted this pattern, and left himself open for a moment on purpose, only to grab hold of Taliesen when he attempted to take advantage of this. Taliesen was flung to the ground, but managed to roll out of the way before Zevran could strike.

Yet, as Taliesen got to his feet, one of Artemis’ arrows struck his leg. He froze in a moment of shock, and Zevran lunged forward, planting both of his daggers in Taliesen’s chest. Taliesen choked, and fell to the ground.

Hera slashed the throat of her own attacker just in time to see a Crow appear behind Zevran. She threw one of her daggers at the man, which sank into the man’s gut. Zevran snapped to attention and finished the job. The rest went down easy.

Hera went up to retrieve her dagger from the man’s body. Zevran rolled his shoulders. His eyes kept wandering back to the body of his friend, until he finally managed to force them away and onto Hera. She put away her daggers, then leaned her hands on her hips.

“No one left to report back,” she said. “What are the chances we’ll be lucky enough that the Crows will just assume you died along with them?”

“They will assume exactly that. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they should not seek me out,” Zevran said.

It was like he was miles away, rather than just a few feet. Hera had never seen him look like this. She hated the word that came to mind. _Fragile._

“That’s a good thing, right?” Hera said.

“A _very_ good thing,” Zevran said, a hint of his usual self reappearing. “It is, in fact, what I’d hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me.”

“Don’t forget Nyx,” Hera noted. “She was the one who made sure we wouldn’t.”

“How could anyone forget our dear Warden?” Zevran said with a smile. It fell again. “I suppose it would be possible for me to leave, now, if I wished. I could go far away, somewhere where the Crows would never find me. I could also stay here. I made an oath to the Wardens, after all, and saving the world seems a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?”

“If you really do want to go, I’d at least say goodbye to Nyx first,” Hera said, swallowing. If he saw no reason to stay other than duty and the Blight, maybe it was better they part now and spare her the few extra weeks before the horde marched on Denerim. “She’d be put out if you just up and disappeared.”

“That is true. But I am asking you… Do you want me to go? Do you need me here?” Zevran said.

Need was a strong word. A word that referred to oxygen, food, water, shelter. To need someone was a deep feeling, beyond desire. Maybe he just meant to ask if they needed his skills. It certainly could have sounded like that, if not for the look in Zevran’s eye and the hidden plea in his question.

“I want you to stay,” Hera admitted.

Zevran smirked and chuckled, which was something she was far more accustomed to seeing from the man. “Then stay I shall,” he said. “I am with you until the end, provided you do not tire of me first. Or I die. Or you die. But there you go.”

“Tire? Of you? Impossible,” Hera said. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled Zevran in for a kiss. He hummed happily against her lips. Despite his smile and obvious joy, Hera still felt like she was sinking.

To lose him would be that easy, and then what? Back to the status quo of sex without feeling? That could be easy, too, but she wasn’t sure it would be right. Hera still refused herself “the word,” because it had as much power as “need.”

She did not need Zevran. There was life without him at her side. There was still a world around her and many places to run. Yet, there was an undeniable fear in her of the thing she used to crave. Free and unattached felt like synonyms, once. Now Hera understood the difference.

Alistair cleared his throat, and she pulled back from Zevran.

“We should get a move on,” Alistair said.

Zevran laughed. “Of course. We’ve a queen to rescue!” The sense of repose in his voice made Hera think he’d not caught the unease in her face.

_Good._ That was good, for now. There were things to do, better things to think about than whatever her mind had her dwelling on.

♢♢♢♢♢

“Cronus, come on,” Alistair urged. “We can’t hang around looting the place for supplies while we’re still in disguise. Even if they still think we’re guards that will be suspicious!”

Cronus held out the Grey Warden documents without a word. Alistair relaxed.

“Ah,” Alistair said. “Right, you probably already knew what was in there.”

Cronus groaned, rolling his eyes, and kept hold of the papers. He’d hand them off to Riordan, who they would meet in a moment. Then Riordan would later tell them about a Grey Warden cache in Denerim. Cronus knew where it was, but wanted to wait until they’d met the senior Warden, because it would be he who knew how to perform the Joining.

Cronus’ fate was as a Warden. Besides, the alternative was convincing Alistair to sleep with Morrigan, which was both laughable and disturbing. It was, however, possible. Cronus had _seen_ it. He’d been more careful with his explorations of other futures after that.

Riordan was thankful, though frustrated with Cronus for calling him “old man.”

“Perhaps introductions are in order, if only so you never call me that again,” Riordan said. “Wait...Alistair? Is that you?”

“Oh! You were at my Joining. A Warden from Orlais...Jader? Or was it Montsimmard?” Alistair said.

“I’m Riordan, senior Warden of Jader, but born and bred in Highever and glad to be home,” Riordan said, bowing.

“These must belong to you, then,” Cronus said, handing over the documents.

“Yes, these are my records. The names of the dead I could recognize at Ostagar. What I could find of Duncan’s own recruitment records. Copies of the Joining ritual I rescued from our Denerim vault. These should never be seen by any outside eyes, but I trust in their encryption,” Riordan said.

“Actually, Cronus here was hoping to join the Grey Wardens,” Alistair said, gesturing at the mage. “Do you think you’d be able to see that done?”

“It might take some time to prepare, but I don’t see why I couldn’t. Had I not been captured, I would have tried to recruit more Wardens on my own, for Ferelden surely needs them,” Riordan said.

Hera stepped forward now. “We can discuss that later. Where is Howe?”

Riordan was unsurprised by the intensity of the question. There were many reasons to hate Rendon Howe. “I saw him go to the dungeons. He may still be there.”

“Thank you,” Hera said, and started off in that direction. Scooby was at her heel.

The rest stayed for only a moment to wish Riordan well and send him away. He’d been in these cells long enough; he deserved to see a bit of daylight.

The moment they entered the dungeons, they were exposed. It was quite the miracle it hadn’t happened sooner, given that a number of them had been slowly looting the place (“We need the money for supplies!” was a popular claim). Plus, there was the still visible _vallaslin_ on Hera’s face. Facial tattoos were not unheard of, but they weren’t common among guards and certainly didn’t have the kind of design she was sporting.

At least those of them in lighter armor had been able to slide the metal plates over their leathers. Alistair was stuck with the downgrade from silverite to steel. It was of high quality, but ordinary guards aren’t really worth spending a ton of coin on, so it was still just steel.

Which gave Hera the brilliant plan of using him as a lure. He’d run in and ask for help with some intruders, only to draw them back into an ambush of traps and well-timed arrows and spells. This worked for a couple rooms, until all the noise had people on high alert that they didn’t trust Alistair enough to follow.

It at least saved them a bit of energy for a time. They stopped to release one of the first prisoners they came across. It was Oswyn Sighard, the noble Nyx had mentioned. He swore to vouch for the Wardens to his father. Cronus healed his legs well enough so the man could limp out, since Oswyn swore he could make it out on his own undetected.

The next prisoner they came across was a survivor from Ostagar that had gone mad. They let him go free, though he hardly seemed like he was in the state of mind to get out alone.

“Maybe I should go with him? See that he makes it out alright,” Artemis offered.

“That voice,” a whisper echoed from further in. “Artemis?”

She jumped at the sound of her name, rushing past the rest of the group. “Soris!” she burst. “Quick, Alistair, the key!”

Alistair hurried over to let him out. Artemis reached towards her cousin but he took a step away from her. Her face fell.

“Soris, I—”

“What in the name of the forgotten gods are you doing here?” Soris said, a bitter edge to his words.

“I’ve been helping the Wardens against the Blight. I thought...it would be a good way to make up for what I’d done,” Artemis said. “I’m so sorry, Soris. I hoped they wouldn’t find you.”

“It was your arrow that got us into this mess, cousin. The least you could have done was to stick around and take responsibility for it,” Soris said. “Instead you left me to take the fall for you. Did you even know I was here? Did you even know I was still alive?”

“I-I didn’t. I’d hoped…”

“Then you would have been alright with them having executed me for _your_ crime?”

“No!” Artemis shouted. “I had hoped you were alive, that maybe Valendrian had vouched for you.”

“And what was he supposed to do? He’s still an elf, same as you and me, and as far as the guards knew, it was _me_ who’d murdered the Arl’s son,” Soris said. “You just ran away. You say you’re with the Wardens now? Why not use their influence to help? Talk to the King for my release?”

“You haven’t heard?” Artemis said.

“Heard what? The only news I get is from some of the other prisoners, but it’s hard to tell what’s true. Especially with men going mad.”

“King Cailan died at Ostagar,” Artemis said. “And the Grey Wardens have been marked as enemies by Teryn Loghain after he betrayed them. Even with their help...I couldn’t have done anything. I shouldn’t have run. I know that. How can I ever make this up to you?”

Soris sighed. Angry as he was, he was also exhausted, weak, and hungry from so long a time spent locked up. “You sound like a human, saying things like that,” he said. “The months of my life I spent here being tortured and half-starved… That isn’t something you can buy back. You owed me my freedom. That’s all I want from you.”

“Please, Soris. Just...take this at least. Start a new life. It’s the least I can do,” Artemis said. She held out her coin purse. It wasn’t very heavy or full, but it had a few sovereigns, plus a decent amount of silver and about five coppers. Most of it was her share from looting the Arl’s estate just that day.

“I suppose that’s no more than you owe me, but don’t think this makes up for abandoning me here,” Soris said.

“Get somewhere safe. I promise we can talk more later, but things are...about to get messier around here,” Artemis said.

“Whatever it is you’re up to, I’d rather not know,” Soris said, glancing briefly at the others. “I’ll lay low, take shelter in Alarith’s store. He should be willing to take me in. Look for me there, when you can.”

Artemis nodded, and let him pass. Her face was pinched in pain she didn’t know how to express. Even if she was one for tears—which she wasn’t—Artemis wouldn’t want to cry now, in front of her friends. Leliana laid a hand on her back, encouraging her to move forward.

“At least you know he can be safe, now,” Leliana whispered. “I know you worried.”

“He’ll probably hate me for the rest of my life,” Artemis said.

“I know you well enough to say that hating you for that long should be impossible,” Leliana said. “He will come around. I promise.”

They had to move on. The very next room they entered held Howe, plus two mages he’d hired to keep Anora’s room closed off. More apostates, as Jowan had been. Howe and Loghain no longer cared for the Chantry’s rules, if they ever had.

Alistair was the first one through the door, with Hera close behind. Her blood boiled.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the _prince_ ,” Howe said. Alistair’s grip around the pommel of his blade tightened at the mocking tone Howe had taken. “I must say I’m surprised Eamon would condone you invading my castle and murdering my men. Is he losing faith in the persuasive powers of his Landsmeet?”

“We’ve come here for Queen Anora,” Alistair said.

Hera would have admired his calm if she wasn’t getting such a rush from the rage coursing through her. “Not just her,” she hissed. Scooby growled in agreement.

“The traitorous bitch has you under her thumb? Anora does love games. I’m surprised she’d play with the likes of you,” Howe said.

“This is no game!” Hera barked, stepping forward. “You are a murderer and a traitor. How dare you stand here and pretend you are above us. You are worth less than the mud on my boots.” She spit at the ground for emphasis. “You will pay for what you’ve done.”

“And who is this? Some knife-eared wench with a vendetta?” Howe laughed. “You all look the same to me, so you’ll need to remind me how I’ve wronged you specifically.”

“You killed my family in cold blood, you son of a bitch!” Hera lunged at him without warning, held back by a field of magic. She looked to the mages, but neither of them had cast it.

Cronus stepped forward, keeping the barrier up so they could talk. “Let’s kill the others first. I have an idea you might like,” he said with a grin.

Hera scowled, but agreed. “At least let me maim him,” she said.

“Do as you please, but leave him alive for now,” Cronus said. “As for the two of you…”

He fired off bolts of lightning at each of hired apostates, though the second had long enough to deflect the blast. Alistair and Zevran joined the fray. Alistair weakened the mages with a templar ability, and Zevran was free to slide in and strike. Artemis and Leliana had their bows at the ready, drawing back arrows with the tips iced over, courtesy of Cronus. They picked one mage each, supporting Zevran and Alistair.

Hera, Scooby, and Cronus teamed up against Howe. He was quick, but so were they, and he was outnumbered. Hera dodged a swing of his axe, and happily took notice that recovering from such a move took time. A lot of time, actually. Enough that she could step in and cut Howe’s side and move back again without much risk. The second time Hera attempted this tactic, however, Howe was ready.

He struck his elbow against her chest. Hera stumbled back.

Cronus iced his blade and swung, aiming for Howe’s armor. Though his arms were decently exposed, Cronus just wanted to weaken the man. Drawing too much blood would make Howe pass out, if it didn’t simply kill him. They needed him awake and alive for this to work.

Alistair had no trouble with the mage, thanks to Leliana’s support and his own templar abilities. He was about to move and help Zevran, only to watch the blood spray from the other enemy mage’s throat. The man collapsed without ceremony, and Zevran licked his smiling lips. Alistair grimaced. Zev could be a little creepy when he got excited after a kill.

Scooby managed to knock Howe to the floor, followed by Hera stomping the heel of her boot against Howe’s arm. He gasped in pain, but that didn’t satisfy her. She lifted her foot and brought it down with more force, happy to hear a _snap_ on contact. The bastard deserved even more, but that definitely felt good, especially when he cried out.

“Alright Cronus, the mages are gone. This had better be worth it,” Hera growled.

Cronus sheathed his sword, then brought his left hand up flexing and curling his fingers in a flicking motion to generate a spark of energy. It was the same Hera had seen from the Changeling. She leaned away from it instinctively.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Showing him who you are,” Cronus said, then fired the splintering magic at Howe’s head.

Howe lurched back, screaming. Hera jumped away from him while he writhed, and Cronus smiled sickeningly. Most of the others recoiled as Hera had, watching as blood poured from Howe’s left eye. He had curled into a fetal position, trembling like a naked babe left to die in the snow.

When Howe lifted his head, his eyes met immediately with Hera’s. The look of recognition, of _horror_ was almost palpable. “It was you,” Howe croaked. “She was never the real Cousland girl. _You_ were Bryce’s little brat! What kind of dark magic did you employ? Is this man a maleficar? I’ll kill you!”

“Wrong,” Hera said. She gripped her favored dagger, the one that had been Duncan’s, and approached Howe once more. “I’m not the one who is going to die today. Now you can look me in the eye and know the name of your killer. I am Hera Cousland, and you killed my family.” Hera thrust the point of her dagger down into his heart, watching as Howe choked. “I hope your soul rots in the darkest depths of the Void.”

A traitorous tear fell from her eye, her cheek twitching as she fought the rest that threatened to spill. The light left Howe’s eyes, and Hera stood, yanking her dagger out of his still warm corpse.

“We’re done here,” Hera said. A moment of pure silence passed over them. It was broken by a small whine from Scooby.

“There’s one last bit of business in the back room just there,” Alistair said. “Then we can leave.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Hera said, already moving. “I’d rather not stay any longer.”

Alistair nodded. He took Cronus and the archers with him. Zevran did not move from where he stood, until Hera was out the door. He went with her.

She threw her back against a wall, hunched over while her face met her hands. What tears could come came fast and hot and _burned_. Hera thought this would end the pain, make things right again, but she was still so angry.

She wanted to kill Howe again, draw it out and break every bone in his body. She wanted him to suffer as she had. Hera could find his children and kill them, like he’d killed little Oren. But the Howe children were grown, weren’t they? It wasn’t the same, and they weren’t responsible for Rendon Howe’s crimes.

Hera did not pull away when Zevran put his arms around her and held her close. He didn’t speak, because he could think of nothing appropriate to say. This had torn the hole in Hera’s heart wider when she’d meant to stitch it up.

“Why don’t I feel better?” she thought aloud. Scooby nudged her leg in sympathy.

“As someone who killed for a living, I got to learn a lot of things about death. When someone invests emotion into the ordeal, instead of just killing for the coin, it is never easy. Even when the only thing you felt for the person was hatred it is...a kind of attachment,” Zevran said awkwardly.

Hera assumed he wasn’t used to consoling people over a kill. His experience told her he was more used to sharing a pint and making passionate love with someone after spilling blood. It was what Hera thought she would want to do after today. To find that the opposite was true…

“Have you ever had to do this?” Hera asked.

“Holding a beautiful woman in my arms? Many times, yes,” Zevran joked.

Hera was still sniffling, but snorted at that. “I don’t mean that,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I mean, did you ever kill someone for revenge?”

“I have killed for many reasons,” Zevran said, effectively dodging the specifics. “But usually my motivation was the coin I’d been promised. And keeping myself alive, given the rules the Crows have.”

“Right,” Hera said. “Nothing that had been...personal, then?”

“I didn’t say… _that_ , exactly,” Zevran said. He hesitated, glancing away for a moment as if deciding something. He looked back, lips barely parted to speak again, when Alistair and the others joined them. Zevran’s mouth closed.

They’d completed the task Nyx had given them, and had a ring to deliver to another noble whose support they needed in the Landsmeet. Tomorrow, they would go with her to the Gnawed Noble Tavern to speak with nobles who were staying in Denerim and gain their loyalty. Nyx promised that she knew what to say to each of them, so long as they did what she needed them to while they were in Howe’s dungeon.

With that bit of business finished, they went back up to Anora’s room, the barrier now lifted. She emerged in a guard’s armor, full with helmet. A handy disguise to get her out undetected, though everyone other than Alistair had already removed their disguises. There wasn’t much of a point to hiding their identities anymore, as they’d be attacked regardless, but Anora insisted.

They didn’t bother arguing with her for long. There was already a trap laid out for them, and Alistair would do like he’d promised. When he saw Ser Cauthrien, he lifted his hands and gave himself up willingly. The others were free to go, and Anora remained unnoticed.

When Leliana came to Nyx with the news, she was already suited up and ready. Leliana cocked her head, seeing Perseus wagging excitedly beside her.

“Don’t worry,” Nyx said. “I came up with a plan while you were gone. Does Erlina still have his armor?”


	31. The Ties that Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song for the first section.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtcWvsiQkZE)   
>  [And one for the third section.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5TJgpowg_k)   
>  [And hell, here’s something for the fourth, because why not.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gDs3NYkDqo)

Nyx and Alistair were laughing as soon as they were out of the sight of the guards at Fort Drakon. They fell for Nyx’s trick with barely a question. Perseus played the role of a mabari there for delivery very well. He barked happily along with them, a sort of laugh of his own.

They took back alleys to continue avoiding detection from Loghain’s men, who would likely be on the lookout for them. Still, they had a bad case of the giggles, which would be trouble if there were ruffians lurking around. There usually were in Denerim alleyways. The two of them—and Perseus—leaned against a wall, stopping for a moment to catch their breath.

“That…” Alistair said, “was ridiculous.”

“Wasn’t it?” Nyx agreed. “They had no clue who I was!”

“It’s just a shame you had to break character,” Alistair said. “I’m amazed you’ve room for anything other than mabari facts in that head of yours with how you prattled on.”

“When you’ve been around one as long as I have, you learn a lot from personal experience alone,” Nyx said. “Not to mention the books I read at Highever.”

“Do they really have an estimated 15,000 hairs per square inch on their bodies?”

“Yup.”

“Seems excessive,” Alistair said. Perseus barked like he was offended. “I didn’t mean that it was a _bad_ thing. It’s just a lot of hair.”

Nyx couldn’t help but kiss him. She’d worried as she’d left Eamon’s estate that she’d panic again when she was in Fort Drakon. After all, that was where they would be when the Archdemon arrived. That was where Alistair had died, on the rooftop. However, she’d stayed resolute, focused on her goal and reminding herself that she would see him again soon, perfectly alive. Perfectly _Alistair._

Alistair was sunlight and warmth, a big puppy of a man, and he was hers. Nyx pressed her lips harder against him at this thought. It felt like ages ago when she’d been trying to convince herself that she could go on even if he hated her, so long as he lived.

It was possible she could have. There had been many years that she’d spent without him, living among the Dalish. Nyx had never even heard the name _Alistair_ until Duncan told her to look for him at Ostagar. Now so much of her felt defined by his presence, she found that imagining a life apart from him was not only painful, but it was difficult.

Nyx could only think of the time alone or with Zevran, wandering to look for some kind of magic that would do what she needed. Even that was driven by Alistair. But there had been a time in the Deep Roads now, too. She’d spent most of it sleep deprived and hollow, but she’d lived, if one could call it that. Maybe if Nyx had enough time, even that feeling would leave.

No matter how far in the future, be it tomorrow or years away when they were old and wrinkled, there would come a time where Alistair was lost to her forever. There was no Changeling now to undo that. Cronus had made his position clear; he would not become that monster that they had fought. Nyx knew this was it. No second tries, no chance to start over.

She pulled away from him. Nyx wasn’t laughing any more, her own thoughts curdling distress in her stomach. Alistair held her face between his palms and lifted her head to meet her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I was just thinking...I don’t want to lose you,” Nyx said.

“I feel the same way about you,” Alistair said.

“I know,” she said, because she did. He’d kept her out of the fighting today. He’d been so worried when he thought she might’ve died. He’d held her so gently when they made love like she could snap in two from the slightest graze. “But I don’t know how to live without you. I had over a year alone and I never figured it out.”

Alistair nodded. He knew still, even seeing her pained expression, that he would repeat the actions of the Alistair that came before him if it kept her safe. Because even when he’d hated her, he had loved her. Alistair didn’t believe he would be able to live without Nyx, either.

So he kissed her. Alistair kissed her because living without her wasn’t an option. Not when they had the choice to keep one another close. “No matter what happens,” Alistair said, his voice deep and low, “I am yours.”

Nyx’s heart fluttered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Perseus barked, ruining the mood and causing them to laugh again.

“We love you, too, Percy,” Nyx said, rubbing the mabari’s head. “Let’s get back to Arl Eamon.”

♢♢♢♢♢

“So I have your promise? You will support my claim in the coming Landsmeet?” Anora said.

She was back in her finery, which was not only lovely, but suited her better than armor. Nyx wasn’t sure Anora’s smooth hands had ever held a sword, or even a bow. Given who her father was, perhaps she had, but Anora’s sport was in words and strategies, not exchanging blows.

“Yes. I will speak in your favor,” Nyx said.

She was lying through her teeth, of course, but Cronus had confirmed her fears in a vision; if Nyx didn’t promise Anora the support of the Grey Wardens, she would accuse them of having kidnapped her from Howe’s castle. That alone could be enough to rile up the nobles. Even Arl Eamon mentioned that they were fond of their Queen.

“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, it is quite late and we have all had something of a long day,” Anora said. “I suspect you will all need a lot of rest for the coming days.”

“I’m sure we will,” Nyx agreed. “Rest well, your highness. Let someone know if you wish to speak to me again.”

“I’ll have Erlina fetch you, if that is the case,” Anora said. “Goodnight, Warden.”

Nyx closed the door behind her, finally able to yawn. Anora was at least right about it being late, but there were still a few things Nyx wanted to do before retiring to her room. First, she went to Riordan, who was already talking with Cronus about the Joining. It wouldn’t be necessary to test him like Duncan had with Nyx. He’d faced the Deep Roads alongside the other Wardens, which was enough proof of his skill to convince Riordan.

Nyx simply wanted to get the information about the storeroom again. The Archdemon and darkspawn blood would be there, so it would be prudent to go as soon as they had the chance. She also vaguely recalled some weapons and armor, but nothing specific. Still, something within the Grey Wardens’ stores was bound to be useful.

Which reminded her that somewhere amongst the many things they’d lugged along with them on their journey, partially thanks to Bodahn and his cart to aid in that, was the dragonbone sword that once belonged to King Maric. Legend said it had been granted to him by the Maker when he rose from the dead. Other, slightly more sensible legends said he’d found it in Ortan Thaig. Nyx couldn’t fully believe either story, having been in Ortan Thaig.

She’d kept the sword with the intention of returning it to the castle, perhaps to display at the very least. It was a fine blade, but Alistair had Duncan’s sword, which meant more to him. Maric was a stranger who just happened to impregnate Alistair’s mother. Duncan and Eamon were far closer to being his father.

The sword deserved use, but Nyx could think of no other person appropriate to wield it. Save for, perhaps, Loghain, but he was going to die. Dead men did not need blades, whether they went to the Maker’s side or were sent to the deepest pits of the Void. Though Nyx mused that maybe a sword like that might actually frighten away Fen’Harel. Not that the Dread Wolf would have any reason to chase a human.

But these were pointless, silly thoughts, and there was something she actually needed to do. She bid Riordan and Cronus goodnight, and slipped away to her room.

♢♢♢♢♢

Cronus left shortly after Nyx had. Riordan had asked a lot of questions about how Cronus had been recruited and what he had done with the Wardens since then, which felt as if they dragged on forever. It did, however, remind Cronus of another very important reason to stay with the Grey Wardens. A Grey Warden mage would be able to stay out of the Circle. Cronus quite liked his freedom, and would do anything to keep it, even if it meant he’d accepted the taint into his body.

Unfortunately, the visions showed him that just being a mage didn’t mean not being bothered by templars. A mage he’d only barely known, Anders, had particular trouble with them later on. Cronus chuckled a bit when he saw what happened to him. Anders had always been a rebellious sort, but Cronus would never peg him as the kind of mage who started a full scale uprising. And the way he did it? _Spectacular._

In any case, Cronus would need to get rid of his phylactery when he had the chance. He already saw that he’d have the opportunity, but he had to wait. Time liked order, and when Cronus did things before he was meant to, time punished him accordingly. He’d need to learn patience if he was going to get everything done.

Morrigan was in his room. She’d still asked for a separate one, even though six others were sharing rooms in pairs.

Cronus hadn’t spoken to her at length since he’d been rejected. His pride had been wounded. He would insist to anyone that challenged him that his pride was not _delicate_. Morrigan simply knew how to hurt him the worst (and the best, if he asked nicely).

She stood, as she’d been waiting on his bed. “I wish to ask a question of you,” Morrigan said. “What is your opinion of…‘love?’” She could barely get the word out.

Cronus raised both his brows at once, but tried to remain otherwise neutral. “Any particular reason for this inquiry?”

“You and I have been intimate, for one. You are...impressive, in more ways than that. You protected me from Flemeth without hope of reward, and showed me my future even though you know there is a chance it will not include you. What is more, I’ve started to feel...anxious, when I look upon you. I dislike this sense of dependency. ‘Tis a weakness I abhor. If this is ‘love’ then I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same.”

Cronus closed a bit of the distance between them, but still gave Morrigan some space. “And if I told you that I do love you?”

“Then we are both fools, and we need to do something immediately,” she declared, making a grand sweeping gesture with her hands. “I have allowed myself to become too close, and this is a weakness for us both.”

“That isn’t necessarily true,” Cronus said. “You have seen it for yourself.”

“Seeing is not necessarily believing, such as in this case. This is...for your own good,” Morrigan said. “I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction and you…” Her jaw tightened, as did her resolve. “You are not worth mine.”

“Is that not for me to decide?” Cronus said. “I say you are well worth my distraction.”

“You are impossible!” Morrigan said. She threw up her hands and paced for a moment. “This has been driving me mad. Why must you insist on being so...so…” She groaned. It was rare that she was speechless, and knowing that only frustrated her more.

Cronus closed more of the gap. “I want to understand why you’re so frightened by this.”

“It is...unexpected. I have no experience with any of it,” Morrigan admitted. “And yet I find myself wanting it, hungering for it. For you.” She stepped closer as well. “Release me. Tell me that you wish to end this. Make me believe it and I...will be grateful.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Cronus said. “I don’t want that. I want you, Morrigan.”

“You miserable, selfish bastard!” she shouted, turning from him.

That was hardly the reaction he’d expected. But Cronus let her finish.

“You will regret this, and so will I,” Morrigan said. “Perhaps that is...how it must be.”

“Morrigan,” Cronus said, voice tender as he could make it. “If you would allow me, I would devote my life to you. Believe me, no matter the outcome, I will never regret loving you.”

She scoffed. “If only you’d said foolish things like that sooner, I might’ve known better than to grow so close to you.” Still, she leaned into him when he kissed her. Nor did she stop him from moving her towards the bed. Morrigan wanted this, despite all the things she told herself that said she ought to know better.

But Cronus putting his weight on her, just enough that she could take it, felt so good. No one man should ever feel that wonderful. Yet, Cronus did, even as his scruff scratched her cheek. Morrigan accepted that this was her fate.

A life of loving someone, even though she had seen what fools it made of Nyx and Alistair. Or of Hera, who had clearly grown too attached to the elf she dallied with. Or of Leliana and Artemis, who giggled like school children together and acted so innocently in each other's presence.

Cronus only thought of the future. He would give her a son, follow her to the darkest corners of the world in order to be with her, and do everything in his power to make Morrigan happy. The Landsmeet didn’t matter a lick to him, because she was already his queen.

♢♢♢♢♢

Hera had calmed down a great deal since their return. Nyx leaving to get Alistair meant Hera couldn’t talk out her feelings with the person who was bound to understand most out of anyone, but she still managed. In fact, a little time alone was surprisingly the thing she needed most. By the time the Wardens had returned, Hera was already doing much better.

She still talked it out with Nyx, who even after all this time didn’t seem to be a big fan of vengeance. “But for doing what is just, he would have died regardless, so I’m glad you got to kill him for yourself. I think you needed it,” Nyx had said.

“Yeah, maybe,” Hera had said. She admitted to some insecurity, given the way she’d felt immediately afterwards, but there was also a weight off of her. Hera simply wasn’t used to feeling so light, and wasn’t sure what one was meant to do without a quest for revenge to drive them.

Nyx had a few suggestions, but Hera was mostly thinking of places she’d only ever seen maps of. She would stay for the Blight, because she felt like she needed to after all this time, but Nyx wouldn’t need her after that, and Hera had never become a Warden. Which, incidentally, was one of Nyx’s suggestions.

“Cronus is going to go through the Joining. Duncan recruited you all that time ago, and I was at least being honest about trusting his judgment,” Nyx had said. She’d also had the courtesy to look away when she said that last bit. Thinking of her deception was unpleasant for both of them, but it was reassuring that Nyx felt ashamed of it.

“Having seen what you guys do for a living, no thank you,” Hera had said. “Besides, duty and responsibility aren’t things I’m great at.”

“I’m not sure I agree with you on that, but this is your choice. I wouldn’t dare to Conscript you.”

“Better not. You’ve already made enough decisions for my life.”

Nyx then shrunk in her chair, and Hera clarified that she hadn’t said that to upset her; it was simply a bad joke. Nyx knew how Hera’s mouth could run ahead of her mind at times. Either way, Nyx wouldn’t have held it against her, because it was true.

The rest of their chat had been pleasant, and involved some teasing about Alistair. Hera was great at that.

Now she was in her room, thinking over the day and what she’d spoken about with her pseudo-sister. She only lifted her eyes when Zevran walked in.

“I was starting to wonder if you got lost,” Hera teased. “And this place is smaller than Redcliffe Castle.”

Zevran smirked. “Just attempting to give you some space, my dear,” he said.

“Space is overrated,” Hera said, rising to meet him. They kissed in greeting, but it was shorter than she was used to.

“Here,” Zevran said. He lifted his hand, his fingers clasped around something. “It seems an appropriate moment to give you this.” He revealed a small gold earring, with three small red inlaid jewels.

Hera breathed. “That’s...beautiful. But you don’t need to give me anything.”

“I may not need to, but I want to,” Zevran said. “I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows. A Rivaini merchant prince, and he was wearing a single, jeweled earring when I killed him. In fact, that’s about all he was wearing. I thought it was beautiful and took it to mark the occasion. I’ve kept it since, and I’d like you to have it.”

“Well then, thank you. It’s beautiful,” Hera said.

“Don’t get the wrong idea about it,” Zevran said, almost too quickly. “Taliesen is dead and as far as the Crows are concerned, so am I. That means I’m free, at least for now. Feel free to sell it or...wear it. Whatever you’d like. It’s really the least I could give you in return.”

“Oh,” Hera said. “And here I was thinking it was meant to cheer me up. Not a token of affection. Got it.”

“I...look, just...take it,” Zevran said. He thrust his upturned palm further out, but Hera did not move to grab the earring. “It’s meant a lot to me but so have...so has what you’ve done. Please, take it.”

Hera pursed her lips, the unsettling warmth blooming in her belly again. “No,” she said. “No I...I don’t want something you’re giving just because you feel you ought to. It obviously means a lot to you.”

Zevran finally closed his hand back around the earring, but now he wore a scowl and his cheeks were ruddied. Out of frustration or embarrassment, Hera could not tell. Perhaps a bit of both.

“You really are a frustrating woman to deal with, do you know that? We pick up every other bit of treasure we come across, but not this. You don’t want the earring? You don’t get the earring. Very simple.”

“Zevran, wait,” Hera said. “I just don’t think...this is getting too complicated.” _Oh Creators, what am I saying? Please someone stop me from saying what I think I’m saying!_ “It was easier when it was just...sex. But you are...I am…”

This only hurt him more. “No need to finish whatever it is you are trying to say. I understand. If you wish to end this, then...consider it ended.”

“Zevran, no, I—!”

“Please, Hera. Just...leave me be,” Zevran said, his voice breaking. He left the room in a hurry, and Hera fell back on the bed.

_I should have known better,_ she thought bitterly. Hera assumed there was more feeling behind the way they were with each other, and now he had pulled it all away so quickly. Or she had. It was unclear who was responsible for letting that all come crashing down, but Hera knew she felt responsible.

She was heartbroken. There was no other way of putting it. Hera had—and she finally let herself admit it, moments too late—fallen in love with Zevran, knowing full well that it was meant to be purely physical. The flirtation was never more than that. Even when he recited poetry to her to help her fall asleep. Or when he calmed her while she raged about something one of their friends had done. Or when he held her so sweetly in his arms, doing the best he could to keep her from crying.

Hera had to admit, it was an easy mistake to make. Zevran was endlessly kind, funny, and charismatic. How could anyone resist his charms? But he was trained to make people fall in love, to open themselves up so he could slit their throats with ease. Leliana’s stories held a few similar tales, but the way she was with Artemis was so earnest, there was no mistaking how _she_ felt.

There was no mistaking Hera’s feelings either, and now it seemed ruined. She should have chased after him, but now it was already too late. Zevran could be anywhere on the grounds of the estate, possibly even off of them. Even if she could find him, she had waited for too long. It would seem insincere, or desperate, or foolish. In all fairness, either way Hera felt a fool.

For the first night in a long time, she would be sleeping beside Scooby, and no one else.

♢♢♢♢♢

“Anora believes she has our support,” Nyx said.

Alistair was asking about the Landsmeet again. It was beginning to feel as if they talked about nothing else. She would be relieved once all this business was over and done with. Or not, depending on his decisions. For all they’d talked, the things Nyx held as most important had not been discussed.

“But she doesn’t really, right?” Alistair said. “You want me...on the throne.” He shifted awkwardly in the dining room chair. They were the only two left after supper, sitting in the dark with just one candlestick kept lit. They would need it to get back to their room when they had finished here, and both kept glancing back to see how much of the wick was left to burn.

“Yes,” Nyx said. “Anora is a brilliant woman, born for politics and strategy, but you have all that she lacks. You’ve a heart for the people, even the elves and mages. Those people need someone with a voice to speak up where they cannot. Eamon can teach you the rest. You just need to marry your ideals with her…”

And she froze. A thought occurred to her, the same one she’d had during her night alone in Redcliffe. Nyx hated it with every fiber of her being, but still the suggestion hung in the air. “It could be possible for you to simply marry Anora,” she said.

“Why in the name of Andraste would I do _that_?” Alistair said, aghast. “I’m almost certain she despises me and then there’s...well, _you_.”

“I know. We haven’t really spoken about that part of things,” Nyx said. “I was just thinking that she’s good with politics and you’re good with people. It’s a perfect arrangement.”

“I strongly disagree!” Alistair said. “Nyx, you became a noble because you wanted to...you didn’t want to lose me. You said that earlier today, even. You can’t seriously be thinking about giving that up now.”

“I hadn’t considered the other part of that,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “Yes, I would happily marry you and be by your side for good, but in doing that I’d become the queen. I’d have to rule Ferelden, make important decisions that would affect hundreds...thousands of lives! You have seen me under pressure. I don’t do very well.”

“Well neither do I!” Alistair said, throwing his hands up. “Some days I have trouble finding out which boot goes on which foot!”

Nyx covered her hand in an attempt to hide her laughter. “I did wonder why you took so long some mornings,” she teased.

“Hera is such a bad influence on you. But I had a point. I meant that...you believe in me, right? Well, I believe in you. And if Eamon can help me figure out how to run a country...and saying that _still_ gives me chills, but surely he could teach you, as well. I mean, that’s the thing about kings and their queens: they’re in it together.”

“I suppose,” Nyx said, eyes trailing downward. “I also wasn’t sure...that you’d want that, after everything. Sleeping together is one thing but… I just didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Nyx,” Alistair whispered, running a hand down the side of her face. “I can’t think of anyone better to have at my side. King or not, I intend to marry you.”

Nyx flushed. “Say that again,” she said. “ _Please_.”

“Nyx Cousland,” he said, and this time he fell to one knee. That was how this was supposed to be done, after all. “If you would have me, I want to make you my wife.”

She could only stay still for a moment longer, though it felt nearer to an hour, before she flung her arms around his neck and fell onto him with a sloppy kiss. They tumbled into quite the mess, ending up cackling together on the ground. Nyx’s back was still sore, but she managed to ignore it as she pressed her lips against his.

A concerned guard walked in to make sure neither of them had injured themselves or been attacked. Alistair told the poor man that they were alright, wiping away tears from how hard he’d been laughing. Once the guard had left the room, Alistair turned back to Nyx. “So that’s a maybe?”

“It’s an ‘absolutely yes,’” she said. “But I think we should go to bed before we disturb any other guards.”

Alistair gave a mischievous grin. “You just can’t wait to get me in bed, huh?”

Nyx rolled her eyes, but answered with a sensual kiss. Then, she took him to their room by the hand where they practically tore at each others clothing. Making love, even with Nyx’s injuries, was much easier and more comfortable with an actual bed involved.

Although, one of the feather pillows had burst at some point, and white floof flew all over the room. Nyx had a few stuck in her hair by the time they were done. Thankfully, her hair was black, which made finding the white plumes easier. They were still laughing as Alistair went in for a final goodnight kiss.

“I am very pleased to know that I get to look forward to _that_ every night for the rest of my life,” Alistair said, falling dramatically back to his side of the bed.

Nyx giggled. “Every night?” she said, in mock horror.

“Oh, come off it,” Alistair said. “You love it.”

“I love _you,_ ” Nyx said. “But yes, I do love that, too.”

She curled against his chest, adjusting until the dull ache in her lower back went away. It was a good thing tomorrow was going to be spent making nice with nobles. Stubborn as Nyx was to join in when they went to the Alienage, she feared what might happen if she strained herself too much too soon.

Alistair’s mind had jumped a few days ahead of hers. All he could think of was the Landsmeet, even now. He’d accepted her plans, for the most part. It was simple, but it shouldn’t have been.

The last time, the other Alistair, he had hurt Nyx. As he stroked her hair and felt her breath slow to that of someone who had fallen asleep, Alistair thought of ways to fix that old hurt. To make up for things he’d never actually done, but she’d had to live through. It was more than just marriage. Alistair vowed to give her anything that had once been taken from her. Giving her his heart was only the start of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another relationship chapter lol. Everyone is at different stages. And to make up for the lack of everyone’s favorite lesbians (I’m assuming a lot with that statement) the next chapter is an Artemis chapter! Almost entirely!


	32. Sense of Belonging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Music for the fourth section.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WTtz0rpYAk)

Even though Nyx had advised it, and even though Cronus had confirmed it, Leliana still hated that she was going to Marjolaine to kill her. No matter who they were now, and no matter the things that the both of them had done, Leliana had loved her once. She’d always assumed Marjolaine had loved her, in return, though she knew it was entirely possible that was a farce. She hoped not, but another part of her hoped that it was a lie, every part of it. It would make what Leliana had to do next that much easier.

Artemis’ presence helped. Her hands, her voice, or even her silence gave Leliana the strength she dearly needed. She almost leaned in to kiss Artemis, but with Morrigan, Sten, Hera, and Wynne still watching, Leliana thought better of it.

It wasn’t that she minded a bit of public affection, but the others all knew what Leliana was about to do. This was hardly the time for such things. Perhaps this was why Cronus and Zevran had been left behind. The look on Hera’s face when she heard Zev’s name told Leliana otherwise.

The house was not hard to find, nor was it isolated. Artemis had suspected it would be off some back alley, where dark and vile ordeals were meant to go down. That, however, was not the game of the bards. When they confronted you, they liked to do it somewhere that would make you feel comfortable and safe, so it would hurt that much more when they stabbed you in the back.

Leliana warned, in a hushed tone just before opening the door, that Marjolaine would be anticipating violence. She would have guards, probably hidden, and Leliana wasn’t sure just how many to anticipate. Artemis stayed close, as did Hera and Sten. They wouldn’t allow any harm to come to their friend.

“Leliana! So lovely to see you again, my dear,” Marjolaine said in her thick Orlesian accent. She greeted them with her arms wide open, as if this were nothing but a pleasant surprise. They could go into the other room for tea and chat about the Blight, laughing like old friends ought to do.

“Spare me the pleasantries,” Leliana said. “I know you’re—”

“Oh, you must excuse the shabby accommodations. I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with,” Marjolaine said, gesturing around her. “This country smells like wet dog, everywhere. I cannot get the smell out! Even now it is in my hair, my clothes… _uch_.”

Scooby growled, but Hera put a hand on him, rustling his fur. “Easy boy. She’s just a silly Orlesian,” Hera cooed.

“Why did you send assassins after Leliana?” Artemis asked.

“So...business-like, your companion,” Marjolaine said with a nasty smile that Artemis wanted to wipe right off.

“You framed me,” Leliana said, her voice breaking in hurt she’d meant to hide. It was a weakness she could not afford right now. “Had me caught and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden I would be free of you, but it seems I am not. What happened to make you hate me so?” She breathed. “Why do you want me dead so badly?”

“Dead?” Marjolaine said, like it was the first she’d ever heard of the word. “Nonsense. I know you, my Leliana. I know what you are capable of. Four...five men you can dispatch easily. They were sent to give you cause to come to me, and see? Here you are.”

“So letters are out of style now?” Hera quipped.

“We don’t believe you,” Artemis said. Her hands balled into fists, and she wished she was gripping her bow.

“You are so transparent,” Leliana said, huffing in anger. “What are you up to, Marjolaine? _Why_ are you in Ferelden?”

“In truth,” Marjolaine said, shifting her weight, “you have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be. Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch, my Leliana?”

“She is _not_ yours,” Artemis hissed.

“No? Do you know her as well as I do? That peasant life, the rags she wore, and this ridiculous Fereldan hairstyle she wears, messy like a boy…” Marjolaine turned her gaze back to Leliana. “It is not you. I knew you were planning something. But no letters were sent, no messages...you barely spoke to anyone!” Her smile widened. “Clever, Leliana. Very clever. You almost had me fooled, but then, you left the Chantry so suddenly. What conclusion should I draw? You tell me.”

Leliana could hardly believe her ears. Her brow furrowed as she shook her head slowly. “You think I left...because of you? You think I still had some...some plan for _revenge_? You are insane. Paranoid!”

“Not everything has to do with you, Marjolaine,” Artemis said. “Leliana is helping fight back against the Blight. She has bigger concerns than someone like yourself.”

“Oh ho, is that what you think? If I were you I would believe _nothing_ she says. Not a one. She will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl, a friend.” Marjolaine paused, noting the flush of Artemis’ cheeks. “Perhaps more? She is trusting and warm, in your eyes, but it is all an act. To what end, only she could say.”

“I am not you, Marjolaine,” Leliana said. “I left because I didn’t want to become you.”

“Oh, but you are me. You cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way _I_ do, because we are one and the same. Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you _enjoyed_ the _Game_. You revelled in the power it gave you. You cannot change or deny this.”

“I don’t care what you say, I trust Leliana. Nothing will change that,” Artemis said.

“Thank you,” Leliana said, but she held Marjolaine’s gaze. This was about maintaining a show of power, and she could not yet look away. “You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjolaine. I want you out of my life. Forever.”

“You know what Cronus showed us,” Hera reminded her. “So long as she lives, she will hound you.” Scooby growled again, barking once in agreement.

“You have caused too much pain for too many, Marjolaine. It ends here,” Leliana said. She readied her bow and pointed an arrow at the other woman.

But Marjolaine just laughed. “You think you can kill me? Just like that?” Her eyes narrowed. “I _made_ you, Leliana. I can destroy you just as easily.”

The men Leliana predicted would be there leapt out of the back rooms. She was only relieved that she didn’t recognize any of them. She would not have wanted to see more betrayal this day.

Marjolaine had been so proud that she wore nothing but a fine dress. The arrow from Leliana’s bow should have pierced straight through her heart, but one of the mercenaries was at the ready, deflecting the arrow with his shield. He charged at Leliana, and it was hard to get away in the tight quarters of the house. Sten was at the ready.

The fool wasn’t sure what hit him as Asala came down near his shoulder, carving through the armor he wore like butter and piercing his flesh through to the bone. Artemis had readied an arrow of her own, which stuck hard in the man’s cheek. He was in horrible pain, but neither blow would kill him.

Marjolaine had backed away by then, finding the bow she stashed away and lifting an arrow from the quiver. She meant to point it at Leliana, but a fist of pure rock collided against her core and threw her backwards. Wynne had kept her eye on Marjolaine. She cursed loudly, commanding her own mage into action.

The mage threw down a rune, freezing Wynne in place. Too bad for him that Morrigan was able to counter with a spell of her own, a burst of ice rising from his feet and encasing him. Morrigan directed her staff at him and called up spirit magic to suck the life out of him.

Sten finished off the mercenary with the shield, swinging Asala in a clean motion to whip off his head. He took a wider stance as another two-handed warrior rushed him. Sten nearly tore a muscle as he pulled his blade back to block this mercenary’s strike.

As the man pushed his sword harder against Sten’s, trying to force him back, Hera slid in behind him with a laugh. “Here! I’ve got your back buddy!” she said, her dagger already in his neck. Hera stabbed between the plates of his armor, as well, just to make sure he fell.

Marjolaine loosed an arrow. It struck Sten in the side. He grunted, turning towards the woman ready to kill, but stopped himself. She was a coward, and Leliana deserved to see her finished.

Artemis busied herself helping Morrigan against the mage, who had melted the ice from within with carefully cast fire magic. He just barely dodged her first arrow, but wasn’t prepared for her dexterity. The second arrow came too quick and pierced his shoulder. He grabbed it reflexively, the blood covering his palm.

The mage fired a bolt of lightning at Artemis. It charred her armor and sent convulsions through her body. Where metal touched her skin, she felt a slight burning sensation. Her hand stiffened and her bow fell.

Scooby barked and ran at the mage, biting his leg through his robes. This time, the mage screamed. Hera was with her mabari seconds later to plant a dagger in the man’s heart.

Artemis was on her knees, but Wynne was released from the paralysis. She cast a spell to soothe the stinging pains on Artemis’ body.

Leliana stepped forward, an arrow prepped for Marjolaine. “I told you,” Leliana said, “it’s over.” Her arrow did not miss this time.

Marjolaine sank to the ground, coughing up blood after a moment. She spit out more, trying to speak, but choked and coughed again instead. There was nothing more to say, anyway. Her life ended, and her eyes shut.

♢♢♢♢♢

Zevran was in the library when the group returned. Leliana saw him first, saying a polite hello even though her expression was grim. Given what she’d just finished doing, he couldn’t blame her. After Marjolaine and Taliesen, Zevran was just waiting for the next old friend to betray them. Maybe it would be one of Artemis’. She was from Denerim, after all.

Hera wandered in minutes later, and barely reacted to his presence. Zevran tried not to look up, but of course he did, watching her lazily scan over a line of books on the shelves, tracing her finger over their spines. The earring was still on his person. Zevran could have put it back where he usually kept it, safely tucked in a soft handkerchief at the bottom of his pack, but he hadn’t. He held onto it, kept it close, like he still had a use for it.

Finally, Hera turned, leaning her back gently against the bookshelf and sighing. “I don’t want to read,” she said. “Why am I even pretending I came in here for a book? I honestly don’t know! Sure, I could find something that would probably be fascinating if I spent more than a minute looking through the collection, but I don’t actually want to read. And I usually love reading.”

“You have mentioned this before,” Zevran noted. “You read through the library in Highever five times, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Six, actually,” Hera said. “Which should be really impressive because some of them are horrible and dull. I might have made it seven if I hadn’t discovered…”

“Sex,” Zevran finished when Hera hesitated.

“Right. So I guess I told you that whole story, too.” She pushed herself away from the bookshelf and moved closer to him. “I should explain myself. I mean, what happened last night was far from anything I intended. Something just...came over me. After killing Howe, after you nearly left us… Would you have really just gone if I hadn’t asked you to stay?”

“If I had been unwanted, there would not have been much of a reason to stay, no?” Zevran said. “There is no need for me to kill the darkspawn. Though if I went, the group would be lacking in the department of handsome elves.”

“Zev,” Hera breathed. “Did you really stay because of me?”

For some reason, this aggravated him. “What is it you want to hear?”

“The truth,” Hera said. “Last night I was trying to tell you how I feel, because it scares me how much I care...about you. The thought that you could have just been gone just because I didn’t tell you not to leave, that— I hate that. Whatever I said wrong, whatever I did that upset you, I’m sorry. You know how I can be. I never say the right thing the right way.”

She had to pause. This was a lot to unload all at once. She was just glad she didn’t have to do it on the top of a mountain after fighting a High Dragon. She took a heavy breath before starting again.

“I don’t want things to be over between us. Quite the opposite, in fact,” Hera said. “Please, Zev.”

He hadn’t been looking at her. It was hard to. It had never been difficult to do before, but Zevran found he could not stare into her blue-green eyes and still think straight. But now that he did, he noticed a watery shine over them.

“Hera, my dear…” Zevran said gently. He took her hands, clasping them between his own. “I am yours. Never doubt that this is true. I believe I need to...readjust. A few days. I need it to be right. But I promise you, I am yours.”

He tilted his head upwards to kiss her. Hera managed not to cry, even though hearing those three words was so beautiful, it almost overtook her. She’d still not spoken the three she intended to, but she was less afraid of falling. Something told her that there was no need to worry about Zevran’s feelings, after all.

♢♢♢♢♢

_Home,_ Artemis thought. She stared at the old, run down house that had somehow survived the purge. That was news even to Nyx.

She claimed not to recall ever hearing about such a thing. Perhaps the elves had been too worried about the supposed plague to mention it. This time, they were more forthcoming with their information, because Artemis was there and she was one of their own.

The shopkeep, Alarith, had informed them of what happened. With Artemis missing and Soris imprisoned, Arl Howe had set a purge in motion in the Alienage, claiming vengeance for Vaughn’s death. Many elves died, and many of their homes were burned to the ground. Some were trapped inside as the fire consumed everything. By some miracle, the part of the Alienage that Artemis was from had been left mostly unscathed, but it was heavily overpopulated from the people that had managed to run.

Artemis was almost jealous of Hera for having gotten to kill Howe. There were many with their own reasons for hating the man, but now there was no more chance to take it out on him.

Alarith also let them know that Soris was hiding out in Artemis’ old home. He didn’t mention her father, Cyrion, at all, but she thought nothing of it. She was too concerned with the fact that the people of the Alienage had blamed Soris for their troubles to the point where they’d assaulted him for reappearing.

“Soris,” Artemis said quietly. The group had entered the house, but most of them lingered at the door, at Artemis’ request. She needed to speak with her cousin with as much privacy as she could be afforded.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up. Have you gotten the same warm Alienage welcome as I have?” Soris said. It had been two days since he’d been released, and still he looked worse, rather than better. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles and he had small bruises in places.

“I can’t believe...I never knew about any of this,” Artemis said.

“You didn’t even come back while you were still in Denerim,” Soris said. “Shianni told me. They thought you might be dead, or would have been imprisoned with me.”

“How many were...lost?” Artemis asked. It did no good to torture herself with this, but she had to know.

“I don’t know. After the purge came some sort of...pestilence. It’s hard to say who was killed by soldiers and who fell to disease,” Soris said.

“What about my father? Why isn’t he here with you?”

“Apparently the healers took him into quarantine yesterday. Shianni has been fighting with the guards to see him ever since, but no one can get in unless they’re sick. You should talk to her.”

“We will. Soris I…” Artemis stopped, lowering her head. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to...for all of this I…”

“Don’t,” Soris said. “It would be easy enough to...to blame you for this, but it likely would have happened no matter what. You’re with the Grey Wardens now, right? Do some good for this place.”

Artemis nodded. “I will. Keep safe.”

Soris said nothing. Artemis left, with the others close behind. Leliana was always at her side. It was the same kind of comfort Artemis had offered her with Marjolaine. Nothing extravagant, just closeness. It was all that was needed, for now.

Shianni was already in the midst of arguments with elves outside the quarantine. A mage in fine robes with an elaborately decorated metal staff stood out front, with armored guards on each side. Artemis rushed forward.

“Shianni!” Artemis said.

“Cousin? It’s really you, isn’t it?” Shianni said. She didn’t look terribly happy about it. “Soris said he… He was so out of it I thought he might have dreamed you. I’m glad you’re okay. You have no idea what...the things that happened after your wedding I…”

“Soris told me. And Alarith. Shianni, I’m so sorry,” Artemis said.

“It’s alright. You didn’t do any of this. Soris will see that in time too, I’m sure of it,” Shianni said. She offered a weak smile for Artemis’ sake, but it only made Artemis worry more. “Did he tell you about uncle Cyrion?”

“He’s in the quarantine,” Artemis said.

Shianni’s lips thinned to a line. “I told him not to go to the hospice. Not _one_ of the elves they’ve taken has come out again. Who knows what’s become of them?”

“We’re going in there,” Nyx said, stepping forward.

“And who are you, shem?” Shianni demanded.

Nyx cringed, but Artemis spoke for her, “She’s a friend, and a Grey Warden. Trust me, we can handle this.”

“A Warden? Well, your life certainly got interesting, huh?” Shianni said. “They won’t let anyone in the front unless they decide they look sick enough, but there’s an entrance around back. You’ve always been handy with locks, cousin. Maybe you could get in that way?”

Artemis nodded. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“If not,” Hera said, “I could do it.”

Shianni’s eyes widened. “You...you look like...are you…?”

“Dalish,” Hera said. “And I’d happily tell you all about that later, but right now, we’ve an Alienage to rescue.”

“Right,” Shianni said. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Hera ran ahead and around the back, readying a lockpick. Artemis had to keep up with her. Even once they got inside, they still had to fight off a few guards, but those proved no trouble for the seasoned warriors among them. Nyx went for the papers, knowing they would need this proof for the Landsmeet if they were going to speak out against Loghain. She made sure to direct Artemis towards the cages where a few elves were locked up.

Once the elves were freed, they grabbed the key to enter the apartment complex where the Tevinter slavers kept their base. They hardly said two words as they pushed through room after room. There was no mystery for them here, just a goal. If Cyrion had only been taken yesterday, there was still a chance to rescue him.

They cut down slaver after slaver until they reached the final holding cells, where another Tevinter mage barked orders until he noticed the arrival of Artemis and her friends. They didn’t even give him a chance before they started an attack. None of them would make any kind of deal with a slaver.

It wasn’t long before the enemies all laid dead. Alistair’s templar skills had once again come in handy, though Wynne had to stay far from the fighting to make sure it didn’t affect her. Artemis rushed to a cage on the left side of the room. Leliana reached after her, but Artemis was already busying herself with the lock.

“Art?” an older elf from within said. “Is that really you?”

“Hold on dad,” she said. Her hands were shaking. The lockpick broke in her hand. “Damn! Leliana I—”

Before she could ask, Leliana was at her side with the key. Artemis was ready to cry, but stepped aside to unlock the door. Cyrion stepped out, looking a bit tired, but not so horribly worn that he couldn’t stand.

“I’ll go get the others,” Leliana offered, but Artemis grabbed her wrist and held her back.

“Hera!” Artemis called, taking the key. “Catch!” She threw it to Hera, who caught it in one hand. Leliana blinked at Artemis, but moved closer to her again. Whatever was going on in Artemis’ head, she needed Leliana close.

“Art,” Cyrion said again. “Maker’s breath, I am glad to see you, child. But...surprised. Where have you been all this time? Soris told us that you just ran off and no one has seen you since the wedding.”

Artemis was ready to apologize for what felt like the hundredth time that day. But then Leliana took her hand and...it was better. It was easier. “I killed Vaughn, dad. After that, I panicked. What I’d done was irreversible. I wanted to disappear. Then I stayed away, hoping that maybe, not being there would force them to look for me and spare the Alienage. Then I heard about Soris, and now I’ve heard about the purge… I should have come back, father. I’m sorry.”

“Art, sweetheart,” Cyrion said, then took his daughter into his arms, hugging her tight. “I am just glad to see that you’re alright. What are you doing here, though?” He backed away to look at her, hands on her shoulders.

“I met these Grey Wardens,” Artemis said. “They helped me in the marketplace, and I went with them. It’s been…” She looked at Leliana. “...an adventure.”

Cyrion smiled. “I see. That does explain a few things, I suppose,” he said with a slight laugh. “Even Soris seemed more willing to marry Nelaros than you did.”

Artemis flushed. “This...this is hardly the time!”

Cyrion laughed, but agreed. They allowed Alistair and Nyx to lead the trapped elves back to the Alienage, with Wynne healing any of them that had actually sustained injuries or been at all ill. With everything done, Nyx went with Wynne, Alistair, and Hera to speak with a blind templar that needed some assistance. But Artemis needed to speak with her family more.

Shianni and Cyrion’s presence improved Soris’ mood this time, but he was still visibly angry. Still, he did have enough good nature to laugh when Artemis introduced Leliana to them.

“You did always have a thing for redheads, cousin,” Soris said.

“I always thought she had good taste,” Shianni said with a grin. Artemis groaned as her cousins—both of them with dark orange hair—waggled their eyebrows at one another. Leliana just giggled at their antics. She seemed to fit in well. Cyrion even prepared a small meal for all of them, now that the family was together again.

It was messy, and it was imperfect, but it was home. _Home_ , Artemis thought once more. It was hard to think how not too long ago, all she could dream of was getting away. Now all she could hope for was for her father and cousins to smile a little more.

Artemis understood why Nyx had turned back time, but the problems here were not something she could solve with the past. The elves, all of them, needed a better future. Artemis would do what she could to ensure that they got it.

♢♢♢♢♢

With the night came an ease. Artemis retired to her room early. So much had happened in just a few days, it felt like she was moving slow to not be fighting something or someone. She didn’t even stick around at the dinner table for the story of the haunted orphanage. Artemis had her fill of excitement for the time being.

The Landsmeet was just three more days away. Any business left needed to be taken care of as soon as possible. Artemis had already decided to take as much time as she could visiting her father and cousins, starting to help with restoring the Alienage back to a functioning state.

It was never beautiful, but it could at least have the same air of joy that she remembered from her wedding day. The Alienage needed some good news. Artemis wished she had something more to give them than the ending of something negative.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Leliana said, coming through the door.

“Not at all,” Artemis said.

She had been busy undoing the knots of her braid. Leliana had tied it for her that morning, like she had done so often. It was habitual for them to wake up, get dressed, and fix the braids in each others hair. Today’s braid for Artemis had been a french braid that went across her head in a diagonal, falling over her right shoulder. Her already curled hair unraveled into quite the mess.

“Let me help you with that,” Leliana said, crossing the room to get a brush. Artemis sat on the bed, while Leliana perched behind her, gently running the brush through her white locks. “Your father was very sweet. And that cousin of yours is a riot.”

“Shianni always knows how to make an impression,” Artemis said. She closed her eyes, feeling Leliana lightly curl her fingers in her hair. Before long she’d stopped brushing it at all. Instead, Leliana wrapped her arms around Artemis’ neck, then leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“You are so strong,” Leliana whispered. “Many others could not have faced all that you did willingly.”

“You did,” Artemis said. She shifted to look Leliana in the eye. “With Marjolaine.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Leliana said. “It hurts to realize I never really knew her. She loved me when she could control me, but she never trusted me.”

“If she didn’t know she could trust you, she didn’t really know you, either,” Artemis said.

“You are too kind,” Leliana said, but there was a pleasant giggle in her throat ever still. “I never realized before just how ruthless she could be. Using people then discarding them, all just to survive in the life she lead.” She bit her lips. “What if...she was right? If we are the same? I...I should have just stayed in the Chantry.”

“Would you really have been happier there? What about the vision you had?”

“I could have been wrong about the Maker!” Leliana said. “Even you doubt me sometimes. Maybe...you’re right. Maybe it was just a story to tell myself, to make me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

“You’re not alone now, Leliana,” Artemis said. “You don’t need stories like that.”

“But I was,” Leliana said. “I was alone and desperate when I fled to Ferelden. I went to the only place I knew would take me. I forgot my life as a bard while I was in the cloister. I felt safe. I didn’t have to watch my back all the time. That’s what made Marjolaine the person she was, don’t you see? It _ruined_ her, and it will ruin me, too. It’s already happened. When we killed her I...I enjoyed it. Seeing her dead gave me satisfaction.”

“She deserved it. And you know she never would have given up. Is it wrong to be glad that you’re free of her?”

“But that wasn’t the only reason. I rejoiced over her death! That is what she would have done, were it me lying dead on the floor and not her. I don’t want...I don’t want to be like that,” Leliana said. “What we’re doing...what we’ve done—hunted men down and killed them—part of me loves it. It invigorates me and this scares me. I feel...I feel myself slipping.”

“What if you aren’t slipping?” Artemis said. “What if that’s just who you are? Would that be so wrong? I was terrified when I first killed Vaughn, but I would never take that back. What we’ve been doing...it’s justified. I have to believe that.”

“I admit that I took great pleasure in the intrigue back in Orlais. It was dangerous and chaotic...and exciting, but it destroyed my life,” Leliana said. She leaned a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes. “I thought the Chantry showed me another path, that I was done with that way of living...was I wrong?”

“I thought you said you felt out of place in the Chantry,” Artemis said.

“There is this thought that floats in my mind constantly.” Leliana’s hand fell from her face, and she let her eyes flutter back open. Artemis had not looked away, not even for a second. “That I lied when I said I found peace because really it...it _bored_ me. Here, with you, knowing the freedom on the road and the uncertainty of tomorrow...I feel alive again.”

“I feel the same,” Artemis admitted. “Hiding out in Denerim was not safe, but it was less dangerous than fighting with the Wardens. And yet...I wouldn’t trade this life for anything. Even if I could get Soris to forgive me. Sitting idle in the Alienage working for some lordling while married to some man I barely knew…” She shook her head in disgust. “I couldn’t do it. Not now, not with all that I’ve seen. Even in the times I could have died, I felt more alive than I ever did before.”

Leliana gave a soft smile, but there was a glint of mischievousness in her eye. “We truly are one and the same. Always yearning for freedom and recklessness. It was all I could think of in the Chantry, hoping I could return to Orlais and live that life again. The Maker made the world beautiful, but he also made it dangerous. To really experience it...I want to embrace this, not hide away.”

“No more running away, then?” Artemis said with the slightest smirk.

“No,” Leliana said. “I suppose I should thank you for showing me this, so…” She leaned in and planted a kiss on Artemis’ lips. “Thank you.”

Artemis hummed thoughtfully. “For all the time we’ve spent together, we still haven’t…”

“Haven’t...what?”

“Out of necessity, I shared a tent with you back at camp. Then I got used to sleeping with you there and didn’t want that to change. But for all of that, we’ve not actually _slept_ together,” Artemis said.

“Are you saying that you’d like to?” Leliana asked.

“I was...wondering why?”

“Perhaps we simply needed the right moment,” Leliana said, her fingers brushing up Artemis’ thigh. Leliana grinned when she felt the elf shiver under her touch. “Someone to take the initiative and make it so.”

Artemis needed no more hints, and wanted no more sly words. She pushed forward to capture Leliana in a kiss, with hunger she hadn’t known how to express before now. There was something that opened her eyes in seeing the fragility of things, how easy something precious could be lost. Artemis would waste no more moments that she could spend taking all that she wished to.

Leliana fell back onto the pillows, her mouth never parting from Artemis’. She traced her fingers down the other woman’s back, feeling a sigh flow into her. Artemis had already moved her hands to the buckles of Leliana’s armor. She found herself impatient, and removing armor was never a quick job. Leliana laughed when Artemis grunted, then moved to assist in the task of freeing herself from the thick leather.

Leliana wore just a canvas vest and her smallclothes beneath the leather, for which Artemis was grateful. Once both women were free of their armor, it was much easier to feel each other as they pressed together in more heated kisses. Leliana pushed Artemis over to roll on top of her, kissing down the arch of her neck to her collarbone. Her fingers pulled at the laces of Artemis’ thin shirt, before sliding beneath the fabric to tease her skin.

Artemis arched into Leliana’s touch. She wiggled slightly until Leliana pulled her shirt off completely. Leliana lowered her mouth and sucked at the top of Artemis’ breast. Her hand returned to Artemis’ inner thigh, tracing circles and bringing her fingers ever closer to her smalls.

Artemis moaned in delight and from the torture of waiting. She pulled Leliana’s face back up to hers to meet for another kiss, their tongues swirling together. Taking this moment, Artemis flipped the distracted Leliana onto her back, so that Artemis hovered above her again.

Next to come off was Leliana’s vest, then the brassiere covering her breasts. Artemis took in the sight of Leliana’s bare chest before bringing her mouth down to a cherry pink nipple and sucking. Leliana gasped. Artemis licked this spot, then sucked again, her hand positioned to pinch and pull at the other breast.

But Leliana would not be outdone. She pushed her fingers against Artemis’ smalls, smiling as they played against her wetness. Artemis moaned, and Leliana felt this on her skin.

Both of them had all but forgotten how good it could feel to entangle themselves with another person. This warmth in their bellies, and the heat of their flesh… Every motion was delectable and filled with pleasure. But it went beyond that.

They were not simply together to satisfy some primal need, but out of love. That made it all the more meaningful. Artemis wanted to feel good, but she wanted to make Leliana feel good, too. And Leliana felt the same about her.

Artemis pulled off her bra and cast it aside, bringing herself forward again. Her lips pressed against Leliana’s, then parted. “I love you,” Artemis whispered.

“I love you, too,” Leliana replied, and kissed her. Leliana’s fingers rubbed against Artemis’ sex through her smalls again, causing Artemis to rock her hips into them.

“ _Oh,_ Maker but that is wonderful,” Artemis said. “I hope you— _ah_ —don’t mind that I might call out the Maker’s name like that.”

“I don’t,” Leliana said, kissing Artemis’ nose. “I believe that he is...understanding.”

Artemis giggled. “Good. Though I’d much rather call out your name.”

“And I think I’d much rather hear that.”

Artemis curled her fingers around the top of Leliana’s smallclothes, tugging them downward slow until she received help. When they were down around Leliana’s ankles, she kicked them off to a far end of the room. Leliana fell back in laughter at the sound of the cloth smacking against a wall. Artemis shuffled out of her smalls as well, but paused when she caught Leliana’s eyes gazing over her body.

“You are so beautiful,” Leliana breathed.

“I’m happy you think so,” Artemis said with a smile. She leaned in to kiss Leliana’s neck, nibbling gently at her soft skin.

Leliana repositioned her hand, allowing her fingertips to play against Artemis’ bare flesh. She slipped her index over Artemis’ clitoris, sending tremors through her body. Leliana continued rubbing the sensitive spot, forcing more and more lovely sounds from Artemis. Finally, she dipped a single digit between Artemis’ folds.

“Leliana!” Artemis gasped. “Please...more…”

Leliana pumped her fingers in and out, her motions agonizingly slow while Artemis continued to beg. With the addition of a second finger, Artemis squeaked, thrusting in time with Leliana’s hand. She was already close. Just a little longer and Artemis was sure to burst.

“Leliana,” she pleaded, drawing out her lover’s name, “I’m...I’m about to…”

“It’s alright,” Leliana said. She kissed Artemis’ cheek as she leaned into the redhead. “Go ahead and come.”

As if on command, Artemis squeezed around Leliana’s fingers and cried out. She convulsed slightly as her orgasm coursed through her body. Finally, she fell against Leliana, sighing with delirious joy.

“Maker, but you are good at that,” Artemis muttered.

Leliana chuckled, planting soft kisses on her in various places until Artemis finally lifted her head to meet her lips. Leliana hummed.

“Let me return the favor,” Artemis said.

Leliana quirked a brow. “And how, may I ask, do you intend to do that?”

Artemis just smiled, leaving a trail of kisses down Leliana’s body. She stopped around her breasts to tease her nipples again, but soon continued down her soft stomach to her hip then down the outside of her thigh. Finally, she lifted one of Leliana’s legs and pressed her lips hard against the inside, glancing up at Leliana only once.

A breath hitched in the redhead as Artemis feasted on her sex, lapping at the wetness that had pooled there between her legs. Artemis licked and sucked, puckering her lips over Leliana’s clit and tugging just so. Leliana was quieter than Artemis had been, her moans sweet and breathy. But when she finally came, Leliana screamed Artemis’ name so loud it was sure to draw the attention of everyone else in the estate.

They settled in among the blankets and pillows, satisfied and elated. It had been well worth the wait, they agreed. Though as they wrapped their arms around one another, pressing together in another kiss, they knew they couldn’t wait much longer to begin again. For Artemis and Leliana, the night had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I usually don't have a reason to do this, but little life update because it could be relevant. I finally have an actual job, which will be starting soon (I have orientation _tomorrow_ which I literally just got a call for). Which means that my completely free and open schedule will go bye-bye, and I'm not sure what it will be replaced by. The Thursday evening uploads should stay because that's also when I have a weekly appointment at around 6, so that at least is good. But otherwise I'm not sure.
> 
> I have all of this fic already written, so I should be able to upload this without issue. The conflict is more with the following series since I plan to do Awakening but only barely scratched the surface with like 1 3/4 chapters. So I might take a break after WR, or slow uploads, or something within that vein. I'm really not sure, but I wanted you guys to be aware that things are shifting around.
> 
> But good news is um...I'll actually have money? That is good, right? Yeah.


	33. A Change in the Tides

Everyone who had been traveling with the Wardens was seated at the table. Well, everyone but Shale, who stood beside it because she was simply too large for any of the chairs. It wasn’t like her stone body tired, anyway.

Nyx and Alistair were next to each other, as was only natural. They had kept Eamon, Anora, and anyone else who should not hear these plans yet out of the meeting. Leliana and Zevran promised to keep near the doors with an ear out for spies. No word of this would leave their group.

Then, Nyx told them the plan. On the day of the Landsmeet—tomorrow, in fact—they would put forth Alistair as king, and Nyx would rule beside him. No one disagreed on this point. After all, it was what Nyx had planned for. It was only right that she follow through with it. Hera was proud, watching as their hands clasped. Nyx had promised not to waste all that she took, and by the looks of things, she certainly wouldn’t waste this.

It wouldn’t be difficult now to get the support they needed. Every noble they had come across had reason to trust in them, and many had reason to _distrust_ Teyrn Loghain. Nyx also reminded the others of the duel, which she still insisted on fighting. Nyx would win against Loghain, and then she would see that he died.

Wynne had been checking on her injuries, and it was almost like she’d never been hurt, now. There was a bit of residual pain every now and then in her back, but not enough to debilitate her in the middle of a fight. Nyx was confident that she could succeed against him.

Everyone was in agreement with this course of action. It was time to see something go right with the world, and it really felt like there was a chance for that. Nyx reminded them all that the horde would march on Denerim soon after, and promised that she had plans for what to do in that regard. She would not leave the city without protection. Still, Nyx knew some of them would need to go to Redcliffe to ensure that Arl Eamon and the rest of the people of Redcliffe were kept safe.

“Riordan is going to prepare the Joining for once the Landsmeet is over. He’ll meet with us afterwards. I hope you’re prepared for that, Cronus,” Nyx said, looking to the far end of the table.

“I drink something that tastes like blood and bile, pass out, and awaken a Grey Warden. What’s there to prepare for?” Cronus said.

“I meant… Nevermind,” Nyx said. “That should be all there is to it. Everyone get some sleep. Tomorrow we— Tomorrow is a big day.” She looked up at Alistair with a warmth in her chest. There was no more fear; not now. Only certainty.

The rest started a slow shuffle out of the room, towards their respective quarters. A few of them stopped to offer congratulations to Nyx for the engagement. It couldn’t be official until the Landsmeet, but that was just for the purpose of announcing it publically. To the people who mattered, their destinies were certain.

“Ah, Cronus? Could I...speak with you?” Alistair said.

Cronus turned with a quizzical glance, then planted a kiss on Morrigan’s fingers and promised to join her soon enough. “Whatever you need, _your majesty_.”

Alistair grimaced, but otherwise made no complaint. “You go ahead,” he said to Nyx. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Nyx searched his face for a hint of his plans, but Alistair simply smiled and looked at her with as much love as she’d come to expect from him. She nodded in acceptance, but pressed her lips to his cheek to silently say, _“Don’t take too long.”_ Then she skirted out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Cronus spun a chair and plopped himself down, his legs spread wide as he got comfortable. “Not often I get the pleasure of an audience with the king,” he said, sounding just as mean-spirited as one would expect.

“Please stop that,” Alistair sighed. “If I could ask anyone else—literally _anyone_ else—believe me, I would. But you are the only one who can do that...splinter thingy.”

“Ah. You want to ensure that you live happily ever after? Or...that you find a way to escape the taint? Or perhaps you’re just making sure she isn’t lying to you again?” Cronus was loving this.

“I trust her,” Alistair said, voice raised. He cleared his throat, returning to a regular volume after that. “I need to see...is there anyway you can show me what it was like for her before?”

“When Nyx was an elf?” Cronus said. “Yes, actually.”

Most of the group had asked to see their futures at one point or another, to the great annoyance of Cronus. He’d not explained his ability in full to any of them, save for Morrigan and Nyx as she was the defacto leader, so often they believed that the future he revealed was destined to happen.

There were, however, only some things that would happen every time, in every life. Many times it was a game of chance, and Cronus had to determine which future was the most clear. That would be the one most likely to happen. The rest of the events would follow in branches and paths. After all, if there was a life where Alistair was dead, there was no chance for him to die again later on, meaning another would have to take his place.

That was not the only thing people misunderstood. Cronus was splintered across all timelines, and could thus see all possibilities, future and past. He could see that they could have sided with the werewolves and slaughtered the Dalish clan they met with. They could have sided with Branka, given her the Anvil and fought the Blight with an army of golems. They could have agreed with the Knight Commander and killed every mage in the Tower, including Wynne and all the children.

Cronus saw no reason to explain this, even now, but he was mildly impressed that Alistair was asking not just for the future in general, but for a specific time. Nyx must have discussed the finer details of his ability with Alistair at some point. Cronus charged the energy in his hand, enough to show Alistair what he needed to see.

“Close your eyes. It hurts less when you do,” Cronus warned. Alistair complied, and Cronus pressed the magic to his head.

_Nyx stood with her arrow aimed at Loghain, who had fallen to his knees. The floor was scorched from bombs and her arrows yet dripped with poison. It had been the only way for an archer to win against a swordsman._

_Nyx’s face had the same markings as the ghostly version of her had in the Gauntlet. Though Loghain had surrendered, prepared to accept death, Nyx’s hands shook. She lowered her bow._

_All was as she’d said. Riordan offered the Joining, Nyx considered it, and Alistair refused to allow it. He watched Nyx break, folding to Alistair’s will and stepping aside so he could execute Teyrn Loghain. Anora screamed._

_Nyx looked so small. But there was something she has never mentioned: she was furious. It was a cold anger and barely expressed, but Alistair knew her well enough to recognize it. Whether with him or herself, she was angry that she had defied her morals for a love she couldn't even keep._

_She simply accepted everything that came afterwards, marching with fierceness towards Redcliffe. When Riordan explained that a Warden had to die, she stepped forward and offered herself up so quickly. There was a hollowness in her eyes._

“Stop,” Alistair said, pulling himself away from Cronus. He’d just watched Morrigan be denied her ritual, transforming into a wolf and running away. Alistair didn’t want to witness his own death. It would be too surreal. “I’ve seen enough.”

“There’s more I can show you,” Cronus said. “Before all of that.”

Alistair paused. “Then show me.”

_Nyx begged Tamlen to leave the Ruins with her. He touched the mirror. Duncan saved her. She accepted his recruitment, only because she would have died otherwise._

_She met Alistair with a sad smile. She didn’t speak much for those first days together. Then again, neither did he. Nyx was kind and understanding, and listened intently whenever someone spoke. She always tried to find diplomatic solutions._

_People seemed to just like her so easily. Over time, Nyx had opened up. And the other Alistair had loved her._

“That’s enough,” Alistair said, moving from Cronus’ hand as he had before, but not as roughly. “That was all I needed to see.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“That’s it?” Cronus asked. Alistair nodded, but Cronus was still confused. “Alright then. I guess...see you in the morning.” He’d not shown Alistair anything that Nyx had not already told him. Whatever Alistair hoped to gain from this was a mystery to Cronus.

Cronus even tried looking into this future, following the timeline as closely as possible, but certain moments got...fuzzy. It was always that way when the events were less common. It was an annoying little caveat of his ability, but rarely held relevance. Now that it did, Cronus was making his head burn trying to see what would happen.

Alistair was convinced of something that had been silently plaguing him, and he made up his mind just then. The last thing that helped to tip the scale was how Nyx had smiled before. Alistair had seen her smile many times, but never so effortlessly and bright as she had with the other Alistair. The damage done to her had left permanent scars. Maybe he could never undo that, but he could try to do something new.

♢♢♢♢♢

Hera closed the door behind her, looking at Zevran with half-hooded eyes. She slid up to him, arms wrapping around his neck as she brought him in for a kiss. It came naturally as it once had, for which she was grateful. His hands ran down her sides and rested on the curve of her hips.

“We should celebrate,” Hera whispered as she broke apart from him.

“What are we celebrating, may I ask?” Zevran said.

“You may,” she said. “We are celebrating our dear friends and their engagement.”

“I see. What do you suggest we do to celebrate?”

“I was thinking of something along the lines of...you ripping off my clothes and ravishing me? As you have been known to do,” Hera said, kissing his cheek.

Zevran laughed nervously. “No. No, I do not think so. Surely there is something else on your mind other than that?”

Hera pulled away, but did not remove her arms so she was still close. “You seem different. This isn’t about the other day, is it?”

“No. Well, yes, but not as you think,” Zevran said. He sighed heavily, and Hera let him move out of her grasp. “Are you certain you wish to talk about this? I really do not know what to say.”

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine,” Hera said. If she pushed now he might get upset again. She feared that meant he would leave.

“I...no, this...I am acting like a child, I realize. I apologize. Let me try to explain,” Zevran said. “An assassin must learn to forget about sentiment. It is dangerous. You take your pleasures where you can, when life is good. To expect anything more would be reckless. I thought it was the same between us. Something to enjoy, a pleasant diversion and little more. And yet…”

Hera’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t dared hope, and yet… “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“I don’t know. How would you know such a thing?” Zevran asked. “I grew up amongst those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favor of the kill. Everything I have been taught says what I feel is wrong. Yet, I cannot help it. Since you asked me into your tent, I have been nothing but confused. Do you understand me at all?”

“More than you know,” Hera mumbled. She felt like crying, which was insane. This had been the furthest thing from her mind in terms of expectations. Hera rubbed her eye, while Zevran took her free hand. “Not that I’m an expert on the matter, myself.”

“All I need to know is if there might be some future for us, some possibility of—I do not know what.”

“I certainly hope so,” Hera said. “And I know I’ll do everything I can to ensure that it’s possible.”

Zevran’s hand flew to a pouch on his belt, fingers playing against the clasp that held it closed. “I...still have the earring. I would like to give it to you—as a token of affection. Will you take it?”

“That almost sounds like a proposal,” Hera said.

“Not unless you wish it.”

Again Hera was floored. She’d said it as a joke, though she couldn’t deny wanting it. And here he was agreeing to it!

“I’ll take it,” Hera said.

“Then that is enough for me,” Zevran said.

He took the earring out and placed it in Hera’s open palm. She noticed that it didn’t feel as cool as she would have expected, like he’d been toying with it all day. That made her smile even wider.

“Help me make a hole for it?” Hera asked. Zevran nodded, and very carefully pierced through the cartilage of her right ear.

“I am sorry for acting so strangely,” he said, running his fingers through her hair as he undid her ponytail. “I think I will be better, now. _Much_ better.”

She turned her head and pressed her lips to his with a force and hunger that even their wildest nights could not rival. “I love you, Zevran,” Hera said. “I was trying to say it before but… I suppose I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. Looks like I was destined for that no matter what I did.”

“Nonsense,” Zevran said. “If you are a fool, then what does that make me?”

“What was that saying… Misery loves company? Or is it great minds think alike? I’m not sure which one better applies to the situation at hand.”

Zevran just laughed, pulling her close for more kisses. The two of them had more things to celebrate, now, and the night was still young.

♢♢♢♢♢

The Warden vault was just as Nyx remembered it, though perhaps there were a few less spiderwebs than when she’d been here. Perseus sneezed for the first few steps into the room before she gave up and fetched a broom to clean up some before rummaging through it for anything they might need. Most of the group was waiting outside, since they weren’t all needed for this.

“Stocks of potions, weapons, armor… A lot of this would be useful for defending the city in the coming battle,” Hera noted.

“We’ll have to make that part of the plan,” Nyx said. “We can have Wynne point out which potions would be the most useful. Give better arms to any citizens who might volunteer to join in the battle. Give them an actual fighting chance.”

Hera nodded, and continued looking for the vials Nyx had described. Thick corked glass with a red substance like blood, but with little black worms and an oily sheen. Sounded awful, which was appropriate considering it was the magically preserved blood of an Archdemon. What Nyx hadn’t mentioned were the raised symbols on the faces of the glass. They were easier to feel than they were to see. Hera suspected they were runes and helped with keeping the blood fresh.

She shuddered at that. “Found them!” Hera called.

“Good. Pack away a few. I’m not sure how much Riordan will need,” Nyx said.

Hera nodded and got to work, then jumped when Alistair exclaimed in what she assumed was delight. “What is it?” Hera asked.

“Duncan’s shield,” he said, lifting it. “I knew he’d left it in Denerim, but he didn’t say exactly where. This...this has got to be a sign.”

“A sign of what?” Nyx said, amused.

But Alistair just directed his smile at her and winked. He was being coy, and that made Nyx giggle.

“Alright, have your little secret,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “We ought to clear out. It wouldn’t be good if we were late for the Landsmeet.”

She had grabbed a bundle of some enchanted arrows for Leliana and Artemis. Besides that, the Archdemon blood, and Duncan’s shield, they only took a few potions, opting to save most of them for when Denerim’s citizens would need them desperately. Nyx and her companions were already well prepared for what was to come, and she would not leave the city with extra resources she could afford to leave behind.

It was appropriate for Alistair to be armed with Duncan’s sword and shield. Maric’s sword was magnificent and impressive, but it wasn’t right. Nyx had asked Artemis to carry it with her. After the Landsmeet, they’d decide what to do with that particular relic of the past.

♢♢♢♢♢

Ser Cauthrien stepped aside and let the Wardens pass. Nyx was glad to have been able to spare the woman. It was not her fault that she served a man so corrupt that he’d lost sight of all that was important to the land. Even Ser Cauthrien could see that Loghain was not the man he once was.

In fact, the teyrn was in the middle of a tirade, speaking against the Grey Wardens and Arl Eamon. Nyx barely considered his slanderous words, pointing out instead that Loghain had crimes of his own he had not answered to. The crowd roared in overwhelming agreement as she brought these grievances to light. To his credit, Loghain did not back down, even then.

It wasn’t until Anora stepped out, supporting the Wardens, that Teyrn Loghain faltered. Nyx was uncertain just how many angles Anora had planned on playing. It was hard not to commend that level of strategy, and Anora came by her skill in such matters honestly. If her eye wasn’t so fixed on the throne, she might have made an excellent general.

The majority of the Landsmeet cried out for the Grey Wardens, but Loghain would not let it end there.

“Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?” Loghain growled. “None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have. How dare you judge me!”

“Call off your men,” Nyx said. “Let us settle this honorably.”

Loghain stared her in the eye, and she could almost see pain in his ice blue irises. “Then let us end this,” he said. “I suppose we both knew it would come to this. When we first met at Ostagar I would never have thought so. But Ostagar seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else.”

“Believe me, I understand how that must feel,” Nyx said, grimacing.

“A man is made by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once. I wonder if that is more a compliment to you or me,” Loghain said.

Bann Alfstanna leaned over the balcony to address the crowd and declare the rules. “It shall be fought according to tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled shall abide by the outcome.”

“Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?” Loghain asked.

Nyx shook her head, stepping forward. “I would have no other fight this duel in my place.”

Loghain nodded solemnly. “It is you or me the men will follow, so let us fight for it. Prepare yourself.”

He was first to draw his blade, eliciting a gasp from the crowd as they skittered backwards, forming a large circle around the two warriors. Loghain and Nyx circled one another, gazes locked, until they had rounded far enough for Nyx to catch a glimpse of Alistair. His face had hardened, showing his support and hiding his fear.

Nyx pulled Stargazer from its place on her back and wrung the pommel in her hands. Loghain brought up his shield, and she hurried forward to deliver the first blow.

Loghain parried with the shield, which held sturdy against the meteorite metal of Nyx’s blade. She stumbled, just barely evading a thrust from Loghain. She prepared herself to retaliate, adjusting her stance with the weight of Stargazer, but he was ready again when she swung. This time, at least, it was Loghain who lost his balance. Sparks flew from his shield as Nyx’s sword scraped down the metal surface.

Nyx recovered from her attack and pulled Stargazer back, bringing it in from the opposite direction. Loghain’s blade just barely met hers, then his hand slipped and her sword crashed hard against his armor. A metallic _clang_ ran through the room and nobles gasped.

Nyx could hear Leliana’s song, soft in the crowd, giving an offering of encouragement. Stepping backwards, Nyx widened her stance in preparation. Loghain was about to attack.

As his sword met hers, Nyx pushed hard against his blade and sent him backwards. His arms opened in a reflexive attempt to regain balance, and he could not lift his shield in enough time to defend himself this time. Stargazer carved through his armor, piercing something that felt like flesh to Nyx. He did not bleed, even as she drew back. Nyx had cut his leathers.

Shock registered on Loghain’s face, then transformed into rage. It was clear he would take her seriously now, more than ever. He rushed forward, bashing her side with his shield.

Nyx landed on one knee, lifting Stargazer in enough time to deflect the next blow of Loghain’s blade. She was back on her feet in a moment, and the crowd cheered as she stood. The two warriors were fairly close as their swords remained locked, pressing against one another.

Nyx could see the sheen of sweat on his brow, and knew there must be a familiar bloom of color on her own cheeks from the exertion. This could not last much longer.

Loghain retreated, but only for a moment. His blade came in a wide arc. Nyx sidestepped and Stargazer met the back of Loghain’s armor. This time, it came back with a small splatter of blood. Loghain still did not cry out, though she could see his posture tense from pain.

He would make only one last attempt. He waited for Nyx to attack. When Loghain lifted his shield to block it, he moved moments too late, and Stargazer hit his shoulder. The metal plating was a bit thicker there, so she did not carve through this piece as she had before. In fact, she found her sword had gotten stuck as she tried to draw back.

Loghain’s blade cut through a gap in her armor, between her chestplate and greaves. Nyx sucked in air as pain registered, his sword needing only to cut through her leathers in this position before cutting skin. With an extra hard tug, Stargazer was released from his armor and she escaped his attack.

Nyx could only limp away, the wound in her leg too much to bear with weight on it. She grit her teeth, desperate to see Loghain yield. This was the moment where she nearly lost hope. A moment of hubris had seen the opening Loghain left as a mistake or a fault, forgetting that the man was a tactician first. Of course he’d had a plan.

Yet, Nyx noted his breathing was heavier than hers, and sweat only ran faster down the sides of his face. His dark hair stuck against his ruddied cheeks. Age had given his experience, but he also tired far faster than her.

Nyx prepared another swing, this time with a cautious eye, and managed to strike his sword arm without much trouble. Loghain fell to one knee, leaning weight into his shield as it balanced on the ground. He lowered his sword.

“I was wrong,” Loghain said, stopping Nyx in her tracks. He stood, though shakily, and put away his weapons. “There’s a strength in you that I have not seen anywhere since Maric died. I yield.”

Nyx resheathed Stargazer, taking this moment to catch her breath. Once she was able, she spoke, “You have committed great and unforgivable crimes against the nation of Ferelden. Against the very people you once fought to save. For these things, you must die.” Nyx swallowed, hating the way her voice shook as she said those last three words.

“Wait! There is another option,” Riordan said, joining the fray. Nyx had not seen him before, but knew he must have been there the whole time. He would still offer this, even now, even after hearing all that Loghain had done. It seemed like mercy before, but now…

“The teyrn is a warrior and a general of renown. Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining,” Riordan said. “There are _three_ of us in Ferelden, not counting your friend whom you recruited. There are...compelling reasons to have as many Wardens on hand as possible to deal with the Archdemon.”

“Is this not the better option?” Anora said, stepping forward. “My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people. You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain from this.”

“I leave this choice to you, Warden Nyx,” Riordan said. “But I urge you to do what is best for Ferelden and the Wardens.”

Nyx bowed her head. She’d known this was to come, and still she felt a sickness in her core, a disgust at what she had to do. This was supposed to be easy. She had to steel herself once more.

“I’m sorry, Riordan, but—”

“Do it,” came a voice. Nyx lifted her head, brows lifted in surprise. Alistair was trembling slightly, unable to look up from some spot on the floor he’d picked, but still he said, “Put him through the Joining. With any luck it will kill him anyway.” He bit his lip and swallowed, a strain in his neck that told Nyx he regretted every word, but still he continued.

“Being a Grey Warden is an honor, not a punishment. I would no sooner call this man my brother than I would throw myself off of Fort Drakon. But...our duty goes beyond our personal wishes. We need as many men to fight the darkspawn as we are afforded,” Alistair said. “Do it,” he repeated, with far less force than he’d mustered up previously.

It was a dream. It must have been, Nyx reasoned, because of anyone she knew, Alistair would be the last to speak in Loghain’s defense. But as Alistair finally looked up, he met her gaze and held it, so that she understood. This was because of what she’d told him. This was for _her_.

“Pardon my saying this, but I am glad you have seen sense. It is quite unexpected,” Anora said.

“Yeah well, don’t expect it to happen again,” Alistair grumbled.

Arl Eamon joined them, coming in from his place in the stands. Riordan took Loghain with him, nodding to Cronus to join the two of them as well. Once they had slipped away, the last decision of the Landsmeet had to be made.

“Warden,” Eamon said, clearing his throat, “if you would please, I think you are in the appropriate position to mediate the discussion of successor to the throne.”

Anora stood tall, hands folded neatly in front of her. She would be the very picture of a queen if not for the anxious quirk in her brow. Alistair was much tenser than she was, arms glued stiffly to his sides. He demonstrated his worry far more visibly, but with what he’d just done, Nyx had no doubt that the people must see him as biddable. Kings put their people before their own desires.

No one had to know that there were personal motivations to this action.

Nyx smiled, feeling a peace she’d almost forgotten how to feel. “Alistair will take his father’s throne as King, and I shall rule beside him.” There were a few titters from the nobles, but Nyx was prepared. “For those who do not recognize me, I am the daughter of Teyrn Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, and am of noble blood.”

Alistair took his place beside her. “This is where I wake up usually. Or everyone points and laughs because I have no clothes on…” he whispered. Nyx looked up at him, squeezing his hand. They would need to talk later, but for now he would know that she stood with him in every meaning of the phrase.

“Anora, the Landsmeet has decided against you,” Arl Eamon said. “You must swear fealty to our king, and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself and your heirs.”

Despite everything, Anora retained her composure. “If you think I will swear that oath, Eamon, you know nothing of me,” she said cooly.

“We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war. We must have unity. If she will not swear fealty to you, Alistair, and renounce her claim to the throne, she is a threat to us all,” Eamon said.

“What do you want me to do exactly, kill her?” Alistair said. “I can’t do that. I guess...put her in the tower, for now. Lock her up. Maybe we can find somewhere to send her later.”

“Thank you, Alistair,” Anora said. “You show me mercy that I...would not have shown you.”

At that, the guards took her away. Alistair moved to address the Landsmeet, at Eamon’s suggestion. He cleared his throat, and Nyx bit her lip so she wouldn’t chuckle. No matter what else had changed about him, he was still Alistair. That much remained the same.

“Right, um… I never knew him, but from all I’ve heard of my father, what defined him was his commitment to protecting this land,” Alistair said.

“Alistair,” Nyx stage-whispered. “The Blight?”

“I was getting there!” Alistair insisted, throwing his head back to look at her. “Anyway, the Blight, yes. I may be Maric’s son, but I am also a Grey Warden. I swore I would stand and fight the darkspawn, no matter the cost to myself. I can’t break that oath just to wear the crown. I have to go with my fellow Warden to face the Blight. When the Blight is over, I’ll come back and take up my duties, whatever they are, as king. Until then, I think Arl Eamon will have to be my regent.”

Eamon bowed and accepted his duties. “May the Maker bless your efforts against the darkspawn.”

Alistair smiled back at Nyx. “Shall we finish this thing together?”

Nyx nodded once, and walked up to his side. “Of course, my king.”

“Everyone, get ready to march! It’s going to take all of Ferelden’s strength to survive this Blight,” Alistair said. The crowd started to cheer for him, and he spoke even louder, with more determination. “But we will face it. And we’ll defeat it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a number of things that factored into this decision, both for me and for the Alistair I’m working with, who is—due to “certain circumstances”—not entirely the same as the canon Alistair. For me, my friend Secret and his fic was what made me start to think about how else I could break canon. Plus I am a dirty, horrible fan of Loghain because he’s such an interesting character I can’t release him from my big meaty claws.
> 
> For Alistair, both his experience in forgiving Nyx and in hearing about her past pushed him in this direction. He wanted to return to her the morality she was once forced to break. This was hard as shit for him to do, which is why he took so long to speak, and he’s going to spend a while agonizing over it.
> 
> I mean, thematically Warden Reborn is about the importance of life, both for people you know and don’t know, like and dislike. To have Loghain die, even after all that, it just didn’t feel right.
> 
> Where I will go with this, I’m not entirely sure. I know about a few _events_ that take place in the potential future, but I could always conveniently axe Loghain offscreen. Just...putting that out there.


	34. All We Can Do

Riordan left Cronus and Loghain in the other room, where they would stand in awkward silence until he reappeared a few minutes later. He went to Nyx and Alistair, who were just about to start some important conversations of their own. Nyx stood at Riordan’s approach.

“Your majesty,” Riordan said, bowing to Alistair.

“Oh, no...no need for that just yet,” Alistair insisted, rising from his seat as well. “For now just consider me another Warden.”

“As you wish, then,” Riordan said. “Warden Nyx, I was hoping you might oversee the Joining. You were the one to recruit the mage friend of yours, after all.”

“Friend is...a bit much,” Nyx said. “Regardless, I would be honored to join you in...the Joining.”

Alistair snorted.

“Excellent. I would offer the same invitation to you, Alistair, if you’d like,” Riordan said.

“Well...I—”

“I think you’ve done quite enough for today, love,” Nyx said, patting his arm. “And Eamon will want to speak with you as soon as possible, I’m sure.”

“Right,” Alistair said. He silently thanked her for that. Helping with Cronus’ Joining was one thing. But the other recruit…

“Whenever you are ready, come to the other room. I’ve still a few things to prepare, so you needn’t hurry,” Riordan said. He bowed again and turned to leave.

After a long moment, Alistair spoke, “So...strange story, tell me if you’ve heard this one, this fellow gets made king and gets engaged all in one day.”

Nyx giggled, but shook her head. “Are you certain that’s what you want to talk about?”

“Yes, because I am still trying to rationalize what I’ve done, even though I already knew all the reasons to do it,” Alistair said, staring up at the ceiling.

“You didn’t need to,” Nyx said. “So...why?”

“There was this annoying little voice in the back of my head that kept reminding me of everything you told me. Just the other night, when I asked Cronus to stay, I saw it. I saw you lose yourself to that decision. How could I force you to do that again knowing all that it meant?”

There were so many things to say to that, more questions and confusion, but Alistair’s mind was already spinning with them as it was. Whatever his reasons, at the heart of it, this was for her. She took his face between her palms, and went on slight tip-toe to kiss him.

“Thank you, Alistair,” Nyx said. “I will never forget this.”

“Unfortunately, neither will I,” Alistair groaned. “It’s very hard not to regret it.”

“Then allow me to distract you instead,” Nyx said. She pulled him in for another kiss, taking her time to really enjoy it. Alistair hummed against her lips as his arms snaked around her waist and tugged her closer. She was bending back as he pressed against her.

Finally, he broke the kiss. “Not to ruin the mood, but there is something else we should discuss,” Alistair said. “They’ll expect an heir, you know. With the taint in our blood, it’s hard enough for a Grey Warden to have a child on their own. For two of them…? Every Grey Warden I knew who had children had them before they took the Joining. Having an heir...might not be possible.”

Nyx’s eyes sank, her hands sliding down Alistair to hold his forearms, the breadth of a dagger between them. She’d never told him about her time in the Fade. At the time, it would have been too hard to explain without telling him everything, and afterwards, she’d just wanted to forget it. But Nyx had never forgotten the eyes of the children who were never truly hers.

Before Alistair, she’d not given much thought to whether she wished to have children of her own. If it happened, it happened, and if she never met a man to settle down with, she would stay a hunter until the day she died, supporting Tamlen, who was sure to bond with someone eventually. Now, she would give anything to have Alistair’s child. To help him continue the Theirin line.

“Well…” Nyx said slowly, “it won’t be for lack of trying.”

Alistair grinned, understanding what she was trying to do. “Now _that_ is an excellent point. Good thing we’ve already gotten started, hm?”

Nyx kissed him again. “We can worry about that when the time comes.”

“Too right. We’ve a while yet until my coronation, and even before that there are the darkspawn to take care of,” Alistair said, his tone filled with mild dread. Nyx suspected that was more for the coronation than the darkspawn.

“Anyway, I shouldn’t keep you. You have a Joining to attend,” Alistair said. He pecked her on the cheek. “Meet back in our room when you’re done?”

“Of course, _ma vhenan_ ,” Nyx whispered. She only ever called him that when they were alone, but he lit up every time. “Come on, Percy.”

Her mabari snuffled, rousing from a nap and trodding lazily behind Nyx as she met with Riordan. Cronus and Loghain still stood awkward and silent beside each other. Riordan had the Joining chalice prepared and set on a table.

“Good, we were just about ready to start,” Riordan said. “I was wondering if you had learned the words we speak at the Joining? I understand there have been more important things to do with the Blight, but if you are able, I’d like you to speak them for our recruits.”

Nyx eyed Loghain, receiving a blank stare in return. She turned to see Cronus, rocking on the balls of his feet like a bored child at a fancy party. Hardly the kind of recruits one expects from all the talk of the Grey Wardens and their glory, but then again, Daveth was a pickpocket and Jory was a coward. They took those willing and able, and the taint weeded out the weak.

“I know the words,” Nyx said, to answer Riordan’s question.

“Excellent. Then shall we begin the ceremony?” Riordan said.

Nyx nodded, and cleared her throat. Alistair spoke this for her, two times, in fact. Now she was the one with experience, looking over the trembling recruits. Only these recruits did not tremble, acting as if this were a mild inconvenience, and not a monumental responsibility.

Still, Nyx began to say the ceremonial words. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you.”

That sombered the mood. Perhaps that was the reason for them being spoken. Anyone who had forgotten the seriousness of the order would be reminded.

“Loghain Mac Tir, step forward,” Riordan said.

Nyx was impressed that Loghain did not make some snide remark as he was handed the chalice. He swallowed a mouthful of the awful concoction, and managed not to retch as he fell to his knees. When Loghain fully collapsed, Nyx gasped.

Riordan leaned down to check his pulse. “Alive. Cronus Amell, please step forward.”

Cronus was quick and without hesitation to take the cup, but he gagged moments after swallowing. Nyx didn’t blame him, remembering the taste all too well. Cronus’ legs buckled underneath him and he fell to the ground beside Loghain.

She did not gasp this time, as Cronus had already told her he would survive. In every life where he took the Joining and became a Warden, Cronus lived through it. Nyx had almost asked him if the same was true of her, but she didn’t want to know. Cronus’ destiny seemed to be as a Grey Warden. If Nyx’s was not, it didn’t matter, because it was the life she had now, and she wouldn’t trade it for any other.

♢♢♢♢♢

The next morning, Nyx had prepared a group to leave for Redcliffe, and another to stay and defend Denerim. As far as the rest of their armies knew, the horde was heading for Redcliffe, and they were not entirely wrong. A decent portion would split off to attack there, creating a distraction while the Archdemon lead the rest to Denerim.

Nyx couldn’t exactly explain this to the armies, but her friends were able to stay behind and help the city guard prepare to make the city more defensible. With the element of surprise gone, they would be better able to protect people and save lives. In fact, the first matter of business was to try and convince those who could to flee north and leave the city entirely.

The rest of the citizens would need to bunker down in safe houses, which Nyx’s companions would set up and open to the public when the time was right. With those and a few extra barricades on some of the passages in and out of the city, they stood a decent chance of surviving until Nyx could wind back around with the cavalry. Wynne and Leliana promised to lead the group in Denerim.

Going to Redcliffe were Nyx, Alistair, Cronus, Morrigan, Zevran, and Hera. Nyx had been adamant in her decision to leave Loghain behind. He might be an ally out of their common goal, as well as a Warden, but she did not want him around any longer than she needed to stand. Especially with the way Alistair’s mood soured at even the slightest mention of the man.

Nyx was the only one still in the estate, saying her goodbyes. She hugged Wynne tight. There was a lot of trust being put into the ability of her friends, but still a nagging thought tugged at her heart. There was the potential that, left behind, people that Nyx loved dearly could die when she wasn’t there to protect them. So there were drawn out goodbyes, and a few shed tears from the anxiety of what could happen.

“Take care of them, Wynne,” Nyx whispered. “And take care of yourself. If I return and one of you has...has…”

“I promise you, child, I will do my very best to keep them from harm,” Wynne said. “But you must harden your heart now. There will be a lot of loss in the coming days, no matter what we do to prevent it. Keep your wits about you. You are needed to see this come to an end.”

Nyx nodded. “I’ve done it once before, and I will see to it that it is done again.”

She had only one thing left to do. Loghain stood idle in a far corner of the room, seeing them off only as a formality. Riordan had left before anyone else, otherwise there would have been more of a fight as to where Loghain would be. Instead, Nyx just had to explain to the man, who seemed eternally cross, that she wanted to be certain the city was prepared in case Redcliffe fell.

He’d questioned her strategies at first, but when he noticed he was alone in his dissent, he settled. Nyx was the leader here. That had never stopped him from speaking up when Maric seemed a fool, but he knew his place, here. Loghain was lucky to be alive. There was also an unusual sense of certainty in Nyx that did not feel prideful or overconfident. Nyx was sure in her decisions. That much he could respect.

“Loghain,” Nyx began, wondering for a moment if she ought to address him with some kind of title or honorific. Still, she continued, “I have something of a...gift, for you. Though if you do not wish it for yourself, I still ask that you take it, as you would know best what to do with it.” She drew out Maric’s sword, and watched as Loghain’s ice blue eyes went wide. “I’m certain you recognize this.”

“Maric’s sword...was lost at Ostagar,” Loghain said. “Don’t tell me you returned to darkspawn infested territory just for some relic.”

Despite his words, he looked at the blade as if it were not just some weapon, but his old friend. There were memories attached to it. Nyx thought of Stargazer on her own back, and Duncan’s sword and shield on Alistair’s. Both of them could relate to this particular form of sentiment.

“We returned for many reasons. To retrieve what was lost, yes, but also to ensure that King Cailan was sent to the Maker with honor. He deserved that much,” Nyx said.

“If you had known the man as well as I did, I can’t say that you would retain that belief,” Loghain said with the slightest grunt. “It is good to know that this will not be in darkspawn hands. Those creatures have done enough to soil the land we fought for.”

“Will you wield it?” Nyx asked.

“I am...not certain that I should,” Loghain said. How many years of regrets and sadness did that expression on his face hold?

“Alistair doesn’t want it,” Nyx admitted. “Maric is his father only by blood and a name. And I can think of no one more fitting to use it than you. I never knew him myself but...it seems like something he would want.”

“He would have wanted a great many things,” Loghain said. “Regardless, it is still a blade of fine make. It would be a shame if it sat in some glass case to gather dust, never to see battle again. Did you know that he found it in the Deep Roads in one of those ancient dwarven thaigs?”

“That’s _one_ of the stories that circulates,” Nyx said. “Hard to tell truth from fiction when people also say something about a lady rising from the waters just off the coast of Gwaren to bestow it upon him.”

“Yes, the people do love to exaggerate their legends,” Loghain said. “I… Thank you, Warden. I realize this is more than I deserve.”

Nyx did not disagree. “Just see that you use it to kill as many darkspawn as possible.”

“That much, I can promise you.”

With that, Nyx left them. All she could do was trust in their abilities now. There was much to be done and Nyx needed to get started.

♢♢♢♢♢

There wasn’t as much conversation as there normally would be as they traveled. Even Zevran was filled with an eerie quiet. The road ahead was certain, in most aspects, but there was always the chance of one small misstep into the sharp end of a darkspawn’s blade. The ritual alone would be no guarantee. All it would prevent was the death of whichever Warden made the final blow.

Alistair found he was still dreading being king, but it was all that filled his mind. Nyx had no idea what came after the battle, and that was becoming an ever present thought for her. Hera thought of Fergus, where he might be, and where she and Zevran could run once all was said and done. Morrigan kept her mind on the ritual and Cronus, who would surely chase after her when the time came. Zevran thought of how much he did _not_ want to die, not now, not when so many things in his life were finally good.

Nothing made for cheery conversation or the sort of distraction they needed. So finally, Alistair did what most of them already wanted to do, and asked Cronus.

“I should move to Rivain,” Cronus mused, “and become a fortune teller. They’re popular there, I hear. I’d make a lot of coin, that way. Perhaps I’ll bill you all later, once I’ve figured out my rates.”

“I am curious,” Nyx said. “Last time I spent so much time running I never stopped in to see what new disaster was going on. I did hear news, bits and pieces coming in from Amaranthine, but it could have all been farfetched rumors.”

“Well, you will see for yourself, when the time comes,” Cronus said.

“You mean I’ll be in Amaranthine?” Nyx asked.

“Yes,” Cronus said, “and you’ll meet darkspawn who can _talk_.”

“Okay, he is definitely making that one up,” Alistair said.

“Actually, I don’t think he is. That’s pretty in line with what I heard,” Nyx said. “But that’s all I know about.”

“Talking darkspawn? Really?” Alistair said.

But Cronus refused to tell them anything else. “You really want to be kept distracted by the future when all of this mess is already in your present?”

They had to concede on that point. Nice as it was to remove their minds from the situation at hand, there was need to keep focus. They marched another quarter mile in silence until Hera started a quiet round of “99 Bottles of Beer.” They made it to bottle number 23 before they had to dispatch a group of darkspawn in their path.

Nyx cleaned the tainted blood from her blade once that was done. Even after 76 imaginary bottles of beer, her thoughts still lingered on where her future might end up. It was habitual now, but she had nothing more that she knew of to predict what she ought to do. Much as Nyx believed in Alistair and wanted to believe in herself, the idea of being queen had been just that: an idea and nothing more.

Now she had very loudly declared to every Bann and Arl present at the last Landsmeet that she was prepared to take that position. Nyx knew that would mean she’d have certain duties to fulfill. Some of them she was more prepared for (mostly those done in the privacy of a bedroom) and others less so.

Though she had commanded armies, had lead soldiers into war, she wasn’t sure she’d manage the social requirements. Contact with foreign leaders, making laws to suit the needs of the people, sentencing men to be jailed or executed, if need be… There was a lot to being queen that gave her pause.

Perhaps the only reassurance Nyx got was that she would not have to do any of it alone. There would be advisors and the like to guide her. Plus, the obvious, she would have Alistair. Nyx trusted that he would agree with many of the things she wanted to do to help the elves. No matter where they hailed from, a city or an aravel, she would see that they were recognized as equals. There would be challenges in this and more to do besides, but it was the cause Nyx cared most to dedicate herself to, once she had the power.

Knowing that she could make a difference calmed her thoughts. The battle ahead would be rough, but she knew how to fight. As for the rest, Nyx would simply have to wait and see.

♢♢♢♢♢

Redcliffe was swarmed when they reached the outskirts of town. The group needed to carve their way through a group of oncoming darkspawn of all sorts to reach the castle. Even then, they heard more of the beasts below. They went to kill any of the monsters they could find, clearing out the town to make it safe again, on the off chance there was someone lingering who hadn’t yet been evacuated.

There was an abundance of hurlocks, but the worst were the alphas and emissaries among the darkspawn ranks. Alistair did his best to dispel any curses the emissaries tried to cast on them while Hera snuck past the rest of the ranks to attack the mages directly.

Nyx took on an alpha, meeting it’s blade blow for blow until she found the weakness in its guard. She pushed it back when she had the opportunity. It stumbled, arms falling and sword drooped just enough for a clear shot at the darkspawn’s neck. Nyx decapitated the monster.

Once the town was clear enough, they rushed to the castle. The group joined Eamon’s knights just in time to face off with an ogre. Everyone fighting was exhausted from the rushed journey along the Imperial Highway, and from the lengthy battle. Thus, the ogre still proved to be quite a challenge, even with their number and skill.

Regardless, it fell. It had to.

Once the ogre was dead, Eamon’s men instructed the Wardens to go inside and join Riordan, who had arrived not too long before them. It was the duty of the knights to guard the castle, and with the gates soon closed, the place would be more defensible against further attack.

Nyx lead them through the doors, but felt no comfort even within the safety of the stone walls. There were dark days ahead of them, and the sun was only just beginning to set.


	35. Last Night

Barricades were set where they were needed, leaving only the northernmost exit from Denerim open for passage. It was needed in case there were any people making last minute decisions to run and save their lives rather than hole up in the Chantry or some nobleman’s estate. That there were even just a few of the privileged willing to open their doors to the poor was remarkable.

Everyone who’d been tasked to speaking with the nobles had used different tactics. Once Leliana even had to name drop the Wardens, then continue to mention that they were also the future king and queen of Ferelden. She figured it would be easier to apologize for using their positions for this later than to lose more people to a stubborn rich man who didn’t want his house filled up with “the rabble.”

It was strange to look at the city, prepared for a battle they knew would come. The worst part was not knowing _when_ that first attack would be. Nyx hadn’t known, and even Cronus said it varied too much for an accurate prediction.

No one liked that the only Grey Warden still present was Loghain. Artemis particularly felt discomfort. He was, after all, the man responsible for the most recent suffering the elves had been through.

She found herself running to the Alienage whenever she could, first to supply them with weapons in case the need to defend themselves arose, then for whatever reasons she could find to go there. The weapons were, however, given in secret. The city guard wasn’t fond of armed civilians already, but arming the Alienage was something that they absolutely wouldn’t stand for.

Soris was doing better, though he still had a lot of anger. Artemis didn’t blame him, but at least Shianni had made it clear to most of the other elves that he was not to be blamed for their predicament. No one threw stones at him anymore. That alone was a vast improvement.

As for the rest, they were mostly just...scared. Shems had no reason to care for them or to protect them, even as Artemis fought for their protection. Even then, her help was either done in secret, or through Leliana’s voice. No one would listen to Artemis by herself.

With all these plans, they left only Fort Drakon out of the list of places available for citizens to hide in. It would be among the safer, sturdier structures, but Nyx insisted that it would be needed during the battle with the Archdemon. Artemis still wanted to argue that they could use some of the lower levels that went underground, but no one would hear it. The Warden’s word was law amongst them.

But all Artemis could think of were the elves who were trying their best to fortify wooden hovels that would so easily burn. A few noble families saw enough worth in their servants’ lives to keep them safe, but not enough. So many elves were left to fend for themselves.

Artemis had done all she could for them already. Now just came the waiting.

The blessing in that was that she would not wait this out alone. Leliana’s arms were wide open and her body was warm to press against. The two lovers talked until they could bear the subject of war no longer and moved on to simpler tasks. Artemis let her pale hair fall over the pillows while Leliana buried her face between the elven woman’s legs.

Much as she delighted in Leliana’s skilled tongue, Artemis much preferred to have her even with her face to kiss. Leliana seemed to know this, pulling herself up to take her lover’s lips while finishing Artemis with her fingers. She pressed her thumb against Artemis’ clit and circled it, pressing just hard enough to feel a moan against her mouth.

“You’re so beautiful,” Leliana whispered, parting the kiss just to get a look at Artemis’ flushed face. Two pairs of blue eyes met in matched adoration and desire.

“Lelian— _Ah! _”__

__Artemis was interrupted by her own gasp as her orgasm filled her with heat. A slight tremor overtook her for just a moment before she settled back against the sheets. Leliana took her lips again with delight._ _

__“I think that is the best way I have ever heard someone say my name,” Leliana teased, then laid a kiss on the tip of Artemis’ nose._ _

__“At least…” Artemis said, pausing to catch her breath, “...I say your name. All you ever do is call for the Maker.”_ _

__Leliana flushed. “It is a habit!” she insisted. “From my days at the Chantry.”_ _

__Artemis hummed her laughter through closed lips. “If that’s what Chantry sisters are getting up to these days, I wish I could join.”_ _

__“Why couldn’t you… oh.” Leliana shifted to lay on her side next to Artemis. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__Artemis laughed again, this time her mouth opened in surprise at the earnestness of Leliana’s apology. “Don’t be, I was only joking. Besides, even if they did start taking in elves, I doubt I’d be interested. How could I go on wild adventures with you across Thedas if I need to spend the whole day practicing the Chant of Light?”_ _

__“Now, that is a good point,” Leliana said. “Besides, it wouldn’t do to put you in those billowing robes the sisters wear. You’d look much better in a gown of fine Orlesian silks. Maybe a deep blue, to match your eyes.”_ _

__“Only if it came with a wonderful pair of shoes.”_ _

__“Why, of course. I think pale shoes with a small heel, and little crescent moons shaped from fine gems on the toe.”_ _

__“None of this is practical for travel,” Artemis noted with a sideways glance to Leliana._ _

__“Of course not, but what would our wild adventures be if we didn’t crash a few parties?”_ _

__Artemis hummed an agreement, stroking the backs of her fingers down Leliana’s side, over her hip, and across her thigh. Her hand found the wet flesh of Leliana’s sex, and she pushed a finger inside. Artemis caught her lover’s gasp in a kiss._ _

__“Keep telling me about those shoes,” Artemis said. “I want to know every detail.”_ _

____

♢♢♢♢♢

The nights proved good distractions from the days, but Artemis always returned to her state of anxiety when she left the quiet of her room. Even with Leliana by her side, it only settled the feeling in her heart a little. Enough that she could stay standing and focused, her watch vigilant as she waited with her bow and quiver strapped to her back.

Moments where she was relieved from the guard, given time to wander, were often worse. At least while she was at one of the gates, awaiting the inevitable, she was on her toes and expectant. When Artemis had the moment to leave that state, she worried endlessly that the moment would come as soon as her defenses were down. Which left her tense all day long.

Apparently, she was not the only one. Artemis wandered the marketplace, taking in the awkward sound of silence, when something broke the quiet. There were two voices, rising quickly to shouts, and she recognized both of them.

“If they know that the darkspawn are going to be coming to Denerim, then the Wardens should be here, not off in Redcliffe,” Loghain’s voice cut through the empty square. Artemis felt a chill and started to turn, but the other voice recaptured her interest enough to linger.

“There are forces in Redcliffe as well. They cannot leave the village to burn,” Wynne argued. She sounded worn, as they all were, but there was a different sense about it with her. She forced herself to be stronger than all the rest, so they could rely on her. To hear it now was a surprise to Artemis. Loghain should have been the last person Wynne dropped that guard around.

“And you have told me time and again that they know this because they are Wardens, but I have taken the Joining and have not seen or felt anything to tell me of the darkspawns’ plans beyond chaos and destruction!” Loghain said. “They give me no reason to trust that these things are true, and now the whole city has been in a panic for days with no sign of darkspawn. The dreams of the Archdemon are one thing, but I have not seen any of those beasts while awake.”

“Consider that a blessing, then,” Wynne said. “The experience is unpleasant.”

“Believe me, that much I know. Yet, I do not trust in their reasoning to leave the city so suddenly if the horde is truly on its way here,” Loghain insisted.

“Nyx has not mislead us thus far. She would not have made these decisions if they were not the ones that would ensure—”

A bell started to ring, loud and harsh. Artemis slapped her hands over her ears and turned. Loghain and Wynne looked in that direction as well, spying the eavesdropping elf before hurrying towards the south gates. This was no time to lecture on such a thing.

“Darkspawn!” a guard was shouting when they arrived. When he saw Loghain, he broke into a full report. “They’re breaking through! We’ve archers taking down all that they can, but no sign yet of the Archdemon.”

Artemis watched Loghain nod, a confusion passing over his face for only a moment. Even disgraced, a hero was still a hero in the eyes of many people, and he was the only Grey Warden in Denerim for now. It was only natural for some to assume he had a position of command.

And for that, he operated well, giving instructions to shaking soldiers that got them standing a bit taller and gripping tight to the pommels of their blades. Artemis found Leliana among the crowd and ran to her. She gripped one of the other woman’s hands in hers, the fear bursting in her belly and rendering her speechless.

Leliana gave a soft smile, a sign that she understood. She likely felt a similar sensation, but they were strong, and they were together.

An archer fell from the walls, a hefty-looking crossbow bolt struck through his face with a second in his shoulder. His bones cracked when he hit the ground, and thick blood pooled beneath his body. The image was grotesque, but it was only the beginning.

Grumbles and growls of darkspawn rumbled just beyond the gates. Moments later, the hard slamming against the other side began, trying to break through. The blighted beasts would find a way in, no matter how great their defenses. All stood still as a second soldier fell from the walls, then a third.

The rest of the archers were not so lucky. A burst of flame took them all at once, and their dry-throated screams filled the air. This was when the shadow covered the scene, and fear drifted into utter terror.

Artemis and Leliana had seen the Archdemon before, during that brief moment in the Deep Roads, but with it screaming and hovering overhead, they could take in the full might of the dragon. Not only that, but they could recognize just how small they would look standing against it. Killing the dragon at the Temple of Sacred Ashes had been no small task, nor had it been anything close to what one would describe as “easy,” but the Archdemon seemed almost twice its size.

That, and there was a something about it that reverberated with the ancient power of an old god. Artemis could feel it—physically _feel_ it—like something had wrapped around her body and pulled at her skin. This was the kind of terror that made some men empty their stomachs, and others, their bowels.

Beside her, Leliana had taken up her bow and fired the first arrow. Her hands shook and the first one missed, but it started a wave of resolve over the rest of the men and women who had gathered to fight. When the horde broke in moments later, everyone was ready for them.

They lobbed a few bombs to the front of the group, first filled with pitch to slow their movements, then a few set to explode with flames like a mage’s fireball. It took out a fair amount, but the problem was not the individual strength of each darkspawn. It was their number, and that they would never stop coming. The next waves of the monsters simply walked or crawled over the bodies of their fallen kin.

Artemis nocked an arrow, and aimed for a hurlock towards the front of the charge. She had come prepared to fight and defend her city. Fear would not stop her or her bow.

♢♢♢♢♢

“Have you ever wondered why a Grey Warden is needed to kill the Archdemon?” Riordan asked. The three Wardens in Redcliffe had gathered in front of him, all feigning ignorance to the best of their abilities.

“I always thought ‘need’ was an exaggeration, myself,” Cronus lied.

“Isn’t it our expertise as warriors? Our skill in combat?” Nyx said, lying almost as comfortably.

“Because we can sense it with the taint?” Alistair said, the awkward pitch of a bad liar catching his words.

Thankfully, Riordan did not seem to notice this. “Our skill is useful, yes, but any warrior of talent could feasibly pick up a sword and strike down a dragon. But to kill one with the soul of an old god, we do need the taint. Not to sense it as Alistair suggested.” Riordan paced for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “The Warden who kills the Archdemon will take the soul into their body to destroy it forever. Then, they too will die.”

“One of us has to die?” Nyx said. She conjured up the horror she’d felt the first time he’d revealed this secret to her, and the words turned out to be very convincing. Her voice even cracked as if she were in pain.

“No,” Riordan insisted. “I am the senior Grey Warden and if anyone should strike the final blow and make this sacrifice, it should be me. I do not want any of you resorting to heroics, especially in light of the recent Landsmeet.” He gave a nod to Alistair and Nyx, who swallowed. That kind of respect would take a bit of getting used to. “But I felt the need to warn you, so you know what must happen if I do fall before the Archdemon is dead.”

The three of them nodded in unison.

“Make certain you get rest and are ready in the morning. We will leave at first light,” Riordan said. “It seems it may have been a good thing that some of your companions were left behind. I am certain they will be able to defend the city.”

Nyx forced a smile, hoping it would say something along the lines of, “Yes, what a wonderful coincidence that we left skilled fighters in Denerim where they are going to be sorely needed.” Riordan had not been happy to learn that they’d left Loghain, but she suspected he was glad for that as well.

If Loghain was able to reach the Archdemon before they even arrived, perhaps this would all end sooner than planned. It would be a good use for the man’s life, assuming the ritual wouldn’t save him with Morrigan so far away.

Speaking of which, Cronus left the other two more quickly than usual, which was saying something. Morrigan was surely waiting in his room already, prepared to do what was needed to save their lives. Alistair still hadn’t been given the full details, as once Nyx got out the words “sleep with Morrigan” he didn’t want to hear any other part of it for fear that his imagination would go to places he never wished to venture.

Instead, his hand found Nyx’s as he pulled her to their own room. Alistair took her cheeks in his hands and kissed her with a need she’d never quite felt from him before. They had been passionate with one another before, but never quite so...desperate. Nyx pulled herself from him for a moment, to see the way his brows knit together and his eyes creased.

“You’re afraid,” she whispered.

“Yeah, well, it’s not every day you go off to face an Archdemon, is it?” Alistair said with a gentle chuckle. “Though I suppose it might not be so bad the second time around.”

Nyx shook her head. “No, it’s still pretty bad. Especially when the first time…” She swallowed. “When it didn’t end so well, before.”

“Ah,” he breathed. “I forgot about...of course.”

“You will not die, _ma vhenan,_ ” Nyx said, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I will not let you.”

“You’d better not die, either,” Alistair said, his voice catching. Even to speak the possibility gave him pause. “If I lost you now, I—”

“Shh,” Nyx cooed, kissing his throat. “I won’t leave you. Not after...not after _all of it._ ”

They fell into hushed whispers of sweet nothings. They made sure to say everything to which there was a chance to regret not telling one another. Then Nyx just took his lips, pulling him towards her until she felt her back hit the wall. She hissed at the contact, cringing, and Alistair froze until he was sure she would be okay.

Nyx reassured him by pressing kisses to his cheek and jaw, her chin brushing against his stubble. She giggled when he returned these actions in kind, tickling her with light kisses against her neck. With one leg wrapped around him, Nyx pulled Alistair closer, leaving not even enough room for air to pass between their bodies. He cupped a hand under her thigh, pushing her upwards until she lifted her other leg, supported by Alistair’s strong hands and the wall behind her.

He took her mouth again, invading with his tongue until Nyx moaned. That sent a shiver coursing through him. Nyx felt Alistair hardening against her, his erection pressing beneath her hips. She wiggled until she was able to grind down on him. Alistair’s moans of pleasure vibrated onto her lips.

Still supporting her back, Alistair whirled Nyx around, carrying her to the bed. He placed her down as gently as he could, not wanting to strain her still delicate spine. Nyx leaned back, her palms holding either side of his face to pull him with her.

Alistair slid his own hands beneath her tunic and the band around her breasts. He pinched her nipples and rubbed them until they stood pert against the fabric that covered them.

Nyx didn’t want to wait much longer to have him inside her, so she started to tear the clothes from her body in a wild flurry. Alistair bit back a chuckle as she struggled out of her shirt, deciding it would be better to assist her than tease her. He still found that he could be reduced to breathlessness at the sight of her lying naked beneath him. Alistair hoped he never lost that reaction. He wanted to always think of Nyx as the most beautiful thing he could possibly lay his eyes on.

He pulled off his own clothes, his need outweighing his patience as he climbed on top of her. Alistair sucked the soft flesh of her neck, positioning himself with care. Nyx’s hands trailed down his back, her nails digging just slightly into his skin. Alistair moaned against her. Her hands cupped his ass and gave it a playful squeeze.

“So firm,” Nyx teased with a small giggle.

“All that chasing after darkspawn,” Alistair said, “it does a body some good.”

She pecked his lips. “I like it.”

Alistair grinned and returned her kiss, but deeper and harder. He pushed her lips apart and finally sank his erection deep inside her. Nyx squeaked slightly as he thrust against her innermost walls. Then, she was reduced to moaning.

He steadily worked his cock out then back in, settling on a pace for the repetitive motion. Alistair didn't take long to climax, hissing against her lips then pulling back with a loud groan. He went limp against her while she pressed her lips to his sweaty cheek.

“Let me finish you,” he mumbled, already sleepy.

Nyx giggled, starting to insist that it wasn't necessary, but Alistair was determined.

He kissed down her front, stopping for a moment to lick her breasts and tease her nipples. Then he continued his course, mouth moving lower and lower until he was between her legs. He licked in the places he knew she was most sensitive, grinning at his success as she arched against his face.

Alistair sucked and licked her warm, damp flesh until she cried his name, her orgasm producing a series of tremors in her. Nyx fell back against the pillows, her fingers pulling gently at his hair and coaxing him back to join her. Alistair kissed her lovingly, enjoying her euphoric sighs.

“Maker’s breath, you truly are the most beautiful woman in Thedas. I love you, Nyx,” he said under his breath.

“I love you, too, Alistair.” She kissed him again to prove it. “Promise me we’ll make it out of this? Together?”

Other days, he might have hesitated. It wasn't a promise he could absolutely keep, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. And Nyx needed to hear this, empty as it might be.

“I promise you, we will. The Archdemon won't know what hit it,” Alistair said.

“Between the two of us? Probably a sword.”

He snorted out a laugh, and kissed her goodnight.

♢♢♢♢♢

Redcliffe Castle had gone quiet much later than usual. The tension kept people awake. Hera was one of few whose eyes still remained open once the atmosphere had settled. She’d known this was coming for so long, but examining where she was now compared to where she’d expected to be left her with a lot to sift through.

There was, at least, the comfort of having her fingers entangled with Zevran’s, the other hand in his hair while he fell asleep on her chest. It was one of the pleasures she’d not been able to predict. Given the glow in her cheeks and the softness in her eyes, love was treating her well.

Hera brushed some of the blonde hairs from her lover’s face. Zevran hummed happily, before his eyes fluttered back open.

“Still can’t sleep?” he asked, though the answer was obvious.

“There’s a lot to think about,” she replied.

“Ah, yes, all the pleasant thoughts of the different ways which we may very well be dying soon. I think my favorite is being eaten by the Archdemon. I wonder if it chews its food or simply swallows it whole?” Zevran said.

Hera was charmed as always by his odd sense of humor. “Nan would have skewered the Archdemon if it forgot proper table manners,” she said. “Personally, I’d prefer just not dying at all.”

“I agree,” Zevran said. “I was simply setting the bar low so I am not too disappointed if things do not turn out in our favor.”

“Yes, well,” Hera said, pursing her lips, “I forbid you from dying. So you just...can’t, alright?”

“On one condition,” Zevran said. He flipped himself to lean on his elbows, staring straight into her eyes. “You promise me the same.”

“Alright,” Hera said. She didn’t even need to give it thought. No matter the possibilities, no matter their chances, she would make him this promise. “I won’t die. Not until I am very, very old.”

“Then I swear I shall endeavor to do the same. Though it will be difficult. Occupational hazards, and all.”

Hera laughed and pushed herself forward to kiss him, no matter how awkward the positioning. “Creators take me, I have fallen for the most ridiculous man in all of Thedas.”

“I shall accept the title graciously,” Zevran decided.

They shifted then, her back nestled against his front. Zevran kissed her neck, whispering to her to sleep. Hera found it a bit easier, this time, to let her eyes close. She didn’t stare at the ceiling with thoughts of failure, but let her consciousness drift into the Fade, accepting in gentler dreams of what the future might bring. They would win and she would live to see what that victory brought.

After all, Hera had made a promise.

♢♢♢♢♢

They had been battling for days already, with word having recently arrived that the Wardens would come with reinforcements in four days time. Artemis hated that there was even more time left to wait, but knew they’d planned on this. Their defenses had held well, in most places, but still wave after wave broke through until the weakened areas could be refortified. Most of Artemis’ job, as well as Sten’s and Leliana’s, had been to instruct soldiers and guardsmen on where they were needed most.

The longer the battle raged, the fewer men they had at their disposal. Eamon’s knights would be greatly appreciated now, or even just the familiar face of a friend. Artemis hoped that Nyx was doing everything in her power to speed the time it would take to travel between the two cities.

They’d need to be all on horseback. Even the four day estimate the missive had given was optimistic. Artemis wasn’t able to believe they’d arrive that soon, but still she searched for a piece of herself that could hope. The thing that kept her from despair was the reminder that without Nyx’s warnings, the casualties could have been so much worse. There was not a man so far who had not given his life willingly for the cause.

Artemis was currently on a run back to the southwestern gate, checking in on the efforts to set up a better blockade. Judging by the carnage on her way there, the forces hadn’t gotten much of a chance to fortify the defenses. The only good sign was that she did not personally encounter any living darkspawn, which meant the soldiers had at least held their ground and not allowed any to pass too far into the city.

She leapt over a pile of dead hurlocks, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Artemis was certain that would never leave her nose or hair or clothes, once this was over. The taint and blood and burnt flesh stuck to every edge and corner of their bodies. Dead and living smelled horrifyingly alike. What little time they had to rest was spent forcing themselves to sleep, which left no chance to cleanse themselves.

Artemis could hear the rest of the men ahead before she could see them. They were going toe-to-toe with an ogre. The scouts noted alarming numbers of the massive beasts charging in towards the city. It was to be expected. This was not some small raid. It wasn’t even the kind of darkspawn attacks Artemis had already suffered through.

This was the horde. Full and every bit as terrifying as one should expect.

“Report!” Artemis commanded as she came up on one of the soldiers around the edges of the fight. “What’s been happening on this side of the city?”

“They keep coming!” the man cried, his hands trembling and blistered on his bow. “Every time we start a new blockade, one of the bigger ones breaks through and it starts all over again. Most of the men are falling to exhaustion and hunger, leaving them vulnerable. We got reinforcements but they just _keep coming._ ”

“Reinforcements?” Artemis said.

“Yes, some of the Wardens’ friends. A couple of your lot. Big guy and a mage,” he said.

_Sten and Wynne._

“Where can I find them?” Artemis asked.

“Last I saw, they ran over that way,” the man said, pointing to his right. “The big guy was gonna fight off any darkspawn that came at the mage, and she was going to use her magic to create a new barricade. I don’t know why it hasn’t worked yet.

“Thanks,” she said quickly, before running in that direction. Sten should be easy enough to find, just from a quick glance at Artemis’ surroundings. Magic would also be visible from afar, or so she hoped.

She unslung her bow as she went, carrying a shortbow that would be more useful for a quickdraw in close quarters. Mostly her efforts remained on not drawing attention to herself, but it couldn’t be helped that some of the darkspawn would notice her scurrying across the field. Artemis managed to only sustain a small scratch by the time she heard the familiar sound of Qunlat.

“ _Ebost issala!_ ” Sten shouted, his voice booming clear through the air.

Artemis arrived just in time for him to carve into another hurlock and fling its now lifeless body from where he stood.

“No one told me you two had been sent here,” Artemis said, looking from Sten to Wynne, who stood just a few feet behind him.

“The foolish _bas_ do not recognize your authority as a warrior,” Sten grunted.

“Ah,” Artemis said. Even in the midst of a crisis, prejudices remained. She sighed. Nothing they could do about that. “I’m told you have plans to set up defenses?”

“I have been trying to create a wall of pure stone, but it takes...time,” Wynne said. “And I need to be close enough to summon up the earth. Sten has tried to get me closer, but more darkspawn inevitably block our path.”

The ground shook, and Artemis whipped her head around. The ogre had fallen at last. Sten made another grumbling sound in his throat, but this time it was more akin to approval.

“Should be a bit easier now,” Artemis noted. “We can get more soldiers on this task. Just enough to draw attention away from Wynne. I’ll stay with her and give her more cover. The sooner we secure this side, the sooner we can get back to the south gate.”

Which meant getting back to Leliana and the others, who were still holding their own against the bulk of the horde. These other gates were meant as distractions. Artemis had no idea when the darkspawn had developed more clever tactics, but she suspected it had something to do with the Archdemon that lead them. Every so often they could hear its distant roar.

Sten charged ahead and called for the men (though he called them all _basra_ ) to stand with him and protect “the mage.” Artemis wasn’t sure if they already knew the plan or if they were just going with it, but she was happy to see there was no disagreement. A little hesitation, but that was to be expected. Who was used to seeing a Qunari in Ferelden?

Artemis stayed near Wynne, though mostly kept her back to the woman to keep her eyes outward. She watched as Sten and the soldiers pushed and fought their way through the fresh wave of darkspawn. One of the men fell to an archer, but Artemis followed the path of the arrow back to the shooter, and fired on them. That drew attention to her.

Now the archers were aiming for Wynne, who was keeping up a steady barrier, but wasting mana in the process. Artemis endeavored to fell every darkspawn archer in their path. She loosed arrows at a faster rate than she’d ever done in her life. It was such a flurry that many shots were not fatal, and she was beginning to run out of ammunition.

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath. One of the darkspawn had a crossbow, of all things, and Wynne’s barrier was fading. Artemis reached for another arrow, finding only one left in her quiver. _Time to make it count._

She drew her bow, her arms tensed in her desperation. The darkspawn fired his own weapon an instant before Artemis let the arrow fly. She rushed to step in front of Wynne, the barrier fading. The bolt tore straight through her leathers and pierced the left side of her gut. Artemis gasped, then released a shout in her pain.

Wynne’s reaction was immediate. She pulled Artemis along, hurrying their footsteps to get in position to cast up the wall. With almost all of her remaining mana, Wynne focused on the earth and drew it up. It was slow at first, but Wynne flexed every muscle in her body to strain the magic outward, then lifted her arms. The blockade was up.

They could hear darkspawn smack against the opposite side, scraping at it and bashing their weapons uselessly against it. With luck, the wall would last at least a day before the darkspawn managed to destroy it.

Artemis had a hand on her side, hissing as she felt warm blood collect around her fingers. Wynne didn’t have enough power after lifting the wall to heal it immediately. She at least helped with the pain and managed to slow the bleeding some.

“We need to get you to the south gate,” Wynne said, forcing Artemis’ arm over her shoulders to support her. “There are more healers there, and I can take some of the lyrium in their stocks.”

Artemis nodded. She didn’t feel much like speaking, presently. Even with much of the pain gone there was a lasting soreness and a shock through her body from being struck.

Sten finished the last of the darkspawn that managed to slide through before Wynne lifted her wall. Then, he returned to the others, eyes widening at the bolt in Artemis’ side.

“You are hurt, _kadan._ ”

“South gate,” Artemis grunted. “Now.”

Sten nodded, but pushed Wynne backwards gently. Lifting Artemis into his own arms, he started a sprint back to where others would be able to help. Wynne did the best she could to shuffle behind, but one of the men joined her side, allowing her to slow her pace so she didn’t expend unnecessary energy. She watched Sten’s back until he disappeared into the streets.

They were about halfway there when they heard it. The horn blew from the southern camp. Artemis nearly started herself into a panic, but it blew again. Once was the signal that the gate had fallen beyond defense, to tell everyone to retreat. Twice meant…

“The Wardens!” Artemis shouted, startling Sten more than the noise of the horn.

Lo and behold, their arrival at the gate was amidst a sort of celebration, as Nyx, Alistair, and Cronus stood at the center of attention. They’d cut a path through the horde and lead in Eamon’s men, as well as an army of Dalish elves, dwarves, and mages. For the first time in a while, there seemed to be a moment for respite.

Sten shoved his way through excited and exhausted guardsmen, coming to stand in front of Cronus. He deposited Artemis on her feet and grunted, “Heal her.”

“All this time with the humans, and he still hasn’t learned how to say _please?_ ” Cronus said, rolling his eyes. But he was quick to pull out the bolt and cast an aggressive healing spell over Artemis’ wound.

“Ow!” she cried.

“You wanted it done quickly, right?” Cronus said. “Well, rushing the mending of torn body parts is going to hurt a bit.”

Artemis didn’t bother with any sort of response. She nodded to Nyx, but left her current company. Wherever Leliana was, she would want to see their friends as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe I actually had _trouble_ with the smut in this chapter? I mean...I just wasn’t inspired to write it! Shame on me.


	36. An Honor in Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a death scene.

Alistair took his place, standing above the crowd of various armies gathered for one cause. Even with the treaties, and even knowing that the Blight affected them all, it was rather something to see elves, dwarves, and humans united against a common enemy. Some of them even had magic. Mages outside of the tower was impressive enough.

Yet, the enemy wasn’t the only thing they shared. Each had fear in them, with varying levels of bravery. Some of them shook visibly. Others stood tall, but tense.

_They need to hear from their king._ Those were Nyx’s words, not Alistair’s, but he agreed with them as he repeated them in his head like a mantra. More than that, he knew they needed to hear from the Grey Wardens. They were, after all, the ones who had gathered this army together. They were the group that had saved people from demons, werewolves, and endless politicking. If anyone could inspire these people, varied as they were, and have them stand as one, it was a Warden.

“Before us stands the might of the darkspawn horde! Gaze upon them now, but fear them not!” Alistair cried. The crowd before him was silent, reverent. Nyx joined Alistair, then. “The woman beside me is a native of Ferelden, now risen to the ranks of the Grey Wardens. She is proof that glory is within reach of us all! She has survived, despite the odds, and without her, none of us would be here.”

Many of the crowd nodded in agreement. They had seen her face or heard of her deeds, but all of them knew Nyx was the one that brought them to this point. Within the eyes of Nyx’s close friends, however, the words held a bit of a different meaning. Their faces reflected that knowledge, that secret that they all kept.

“Today, we save Denerim. Today, we avenge the death of my brother, King Cailan. But most of all, today we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honor their sacrifice,” Alistair said. His voice boomed over the army, their eyes shining with renewed vigor. “For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!”

Met with a cheer, Nyx allowed herself a private smile. This was possible. They could win this again, even if only she remembered the previous victory. None of her friends would need to sacrifice themselves for this war. For that moment, however brief, Nyx believed it.

Riordan had already discussed the plans with the other Wardens in private. As before, they were to reach the top of Fort Drakon, luring the Archdemon to even ground where it would be possible to fight it. Parts of the city were still in peril, facing Generals of the darkspawn army. Nyx would see that groups were sent to each area to protect the city as best as they could manage.

Nyx stepped forward, ready to give her own commands. “The marketplace and the Alienage both face incredibly powerful groups of darkspawn. If we are to see this city spared, we will require some of our forces to be stationed there. Close allies of mine will lead each portion of the army to where they are required most.

“Circle mages! You will go to defend the marketplace. Take care that your magic destroys only the enemy. The darkspawn have caused enough damage to our city. Hera will take you there and instruct you further.

“Archers of the Dalish, you will stand with your fellow elves in the Alienage. I am told Artemis set up fortifications which will make it easier for you to fight from a distance. Follow her commands to the letter.

“The dwarves of Orzammar I ask to remain here, keeping this gate from further intrusions. What is left of the city guard will be defending the other gates. My dear friend and companion Oghren will lead you.

“As for the rest,” Nyx said, pausing to see how the people had taken these orders, “you will be following myself and the other Grey Wardens. We will be marching straight to Fort Drakon.”

That meant Arl Eamon’s knights, as well as men and women of Redcliffe who had volunteered to take up arms in the name of the Wardens. Nyx had wanted to turn them away, but this was their home as well. She could not deny their right to defend Ferelden, even if there was a chance it could cost their lives.

“You have your orders. Now move out!” Alistair declared.

♢♢♢♢♢

Hera watched as the others continued their march, pushing through the horde to continue through the city. Blockades meant to protect now blocked many of their passageways, but the guardsmen aided them where they were needed. Now Hera, Zevran, and Sten were staying behind with the mages, hunting down the darkspawn General in the marketplace. Scooby was at Hera’s side, growling as more of the blighted beasts returned.

“The one good thing about a Blight,” Zevran said, twirling a dagger in one hand, “we are never bored.”

“How right you are,” Hera said.

Sten grunted.

This was going to be fun.

The mages started by setting up glyphs and traps for when the initial charge came for them. Scooby howled, and Sten joined with a shout of his own. The darkspawn took the bait, rushing in and running straight over the magic. Some were frozen in place, some were very literally frozen. A few others burst into flame, their movements unimpaired but their minds worked into a panic.

Hera grinned and got to work. She and Zevran had made a promise to stay close to one another during the fighting. They didn’t want to be distracted by worry, nor did they want to chance losing each other in the mess. Scooby was ever at Hera’s side, as well, loyal pup that he was.

She pushed forward towards those stuck in place, slitting throats when she was close enough. Those encased in ice she kicked, shattering off body parts and pushing her blades through the thin spots in the ice to bleed them weak. She met Zevran part of the way and they continued to press onwards.

Sten busied himself with the panicked darkspawn, swinging Asala to cleave through their flaming bodies. His eye twitched at the noticeable mage support, but recognized their prowess and continued on without care. Darkspawn fell to him, or to fire and lighting, and it didn’t matter which.

Scooby ran ahead, under Hera’s orders, head-butting and clawing at any of the creatures in his way. His aim was to find the General. He skated under the legs of an ogre, who desperately swiped as Scooby slid beneath him. Scooby turned his head to see that the ogre had fallen over while flailing to catch him. Hera hopped onto the ogre’s back, and Scooby barked to celebrate the small success.

A couple of the mages gave Hera backup against this ogre, while Zevran split off with Sten, having spotted another of the massive beasts with two shrieks at its side. She maintained focus, carving long lines where veins pulsed under the ogre’s thick hide. Blood splattered across her armor, but she turned her face to keep it from her mouth. She could not get tainted now. Not _now._

The mages threw fireballs as the beast was starting to stand again, forcing Hera off of its back. She sliced down the back of one of its calves as she fell. It gave a sickening roar, clearly finding difficulty in stabilizing its movements.

Another mage came up and set an explosion about the ogre’s face. Burning, it clawed at its own cheeks and eyes and fell forward in pain. Hera leapt back on it, driving her daggers into the back of its neck. It gurgled and died.

Some of the mages cheered, but Hera was whipping around at the cry of another large darkspawn. This was no ogre, but the General they’d been there to fight. She gritted her teeth and ran straight for it.

Hera smashed a vile of poison against her daggers, lacing them with a deadly substance. It would sap the creature’s strength as she fought. Then, she set about finding the chinks in the darkspawn’s armor.

She was distracted for a moment by the _thud_ that came as the second ogre fell. Which meant Sten and Zevran could join her side. But with her mind off of the General, it arced its blade around, nearly colliding with her body.

If not for Scooby, who had been attentive to his master’s movements, it may have very well decapitated Hera. Instead the General was thrust backwards, not falling from his feet but staggering. It grunted with rage. Hera’s eyes were drawn back into the fight, her focus regained as she remembered the task at hand.

While the General was still reeling from the collision with Scooby, Hera dipped her daggers low, cutting into the creature’s legs. It was now effectively poisoned and its movements limited.

Sten came rushing up moments later as she made a small retreat. Asala met the darkspawn’s sword in a clash, the metallic clang ringing in Hera’s ears. The General roared in fury, but even in this it was matched by the Qunari in front of it.

Hera hadn’t even noticed Zevran sliding past her until she saw that he was behind the General. His attacks focused on the creature’s arms, further crippling the darkspawn and its ability to attack. But darkspawn, unlike most creatures, did not care for what pain might come. It fought through the injuries it sustained, tainted blood covering the ground beneath its feet.

Sten swung again, but uncharacteristically missed. Which was when Hera’s eyes followed a trail of light back to an enemy mage. A darkspawn emissary had cursed Sten, who rubbed his blurred eyes with a deep scowl.

Hera nodded to Zevran, a silent gesture to stay with the Qunari and continue the efforts against the General. Someone would have to take care of the emissary before they could continue the fight in earnest. Scooby once again followed along with Hera, rushing at the darkspawn mage and flattening it against the ground.

Sprawled out, its grip loosened around its staff. Hera kicked at its hand and sent the staff flying away. The emissary screeched in its rage. It was still able to cast magic, but it was wilder now without the attunement of a weapon.

Sparks coursed through Hera’s body as it called up electricity. The darkspawn almost seemed to laugh at its successful move against her, which had her on her knees in pain. Another high pitched cry came from behind Hera, and a Shriek tore its massive claws down her back.

She cried out, her voice choked as the air felt thicker. Hera could feel a heat behind her—the fire of a Circle mage.

_Thank Mythal for backup,_ she thought. Though a sharp sting still ran down her back, Hera found her strength and stood.

Scooby joined in the efforts against the Shriek, but Hera was set on killing the emissary. It made its way towards its staff again, but Hera was too quick, dicing its arm into ribbons as it reached for it. The darkspawn attempted to fight back, exhausting mana on another curse, but Hera’s boot collided with its face and crushed its skull.

Her heel connected again and again, hearing the satisfying crunch of bones until the darkspawn lay still and lifeless. She turned just in time to see the Shriek fall, and Zevran in the hands of the General.

Hera’s eyes flew wide in a panic, rushing her way back to him. She slid and tripped on her way, the blood on her boots counteracting against the treads meant to keep her steady. Zevran kicked, his throat strained in the darkspawn’s grasp.

If it hadn’t been for Sten, the consequences might have been fatal, but the massive Qunari’s eyes had cleared when the emissary had died. In a clean motion, Asala carved through the General’s flesh and rendered head from shoulders. Zevran fell to the ground once the vice grip around his neck was released. He leaned on his palms and stuttered out coughs.

“Zevran!” Hera called. She was back on her feet and ran to his side, falling to her knees to hold him. He turned to her with a smile, the marks around his throat evident. They would surely bruise.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Zevran said, his voice somewhat strained. “I’m too pretty to die.”

Hera held him still. The mages managed to keep the rest of the darkspawn at bay, while a couple of healers made their way towards the pair. The deep cuts on Hera’s back were closed and the stress on Zevran’s neck loosened. His breaths no longer wheezed as they had moments ago.

“Are you going to be alright?” Hera asked.

“My career as a minstrel may be at an end,” Zevran said, “but I think I can still kill some darkspawn.”

“We should go to the Alienage,” Hera said. “They might need backup there.”

“The mages can hold this place,” Sten agreed.

 

They were back on the move within seconds, with one General down. With luck, the rest of their group fared better.

♢♢♢♢♢

Artemis kept up on one of the rafters they’d set up over the gates, a whole stockpile of arrows at her side. Shianni and Soris had already been sent away. They would hide those they could in the makeshift bunkers that had been prepared nearly a week ago. Nyx’s warnings had given them so much more time than they would have had, and undoubtedly spared countless lives already.

Now it was all Artemis could do to add her bow into the effort against the darkspawn. She quickly lost count of how many she felled, with arrows piercing chests, heads, necks, legs, arms… Her fire lost some precision in desperation to see this end.

The General hadn’t even appeared yet, but still they fought, knowing that Riordan and Nyx had to be right on their prediction that the powerful darkspawn would wind up here. Artemis had been impressed by the willingness of the Dalish to follow her command. Even if the Wardens had called for it, she’d not anticipated such immediate cooperation.

Behind her came the sound of more people approaching. Artemis turned in a panic, fearing for a moment that darkspawn had somehow rounded and flanked them. Yet, her eyes settled upon Sten, with Hera and Zevran just behind him, and she relaxed in an instant. Artemis turned to Leliana to draw her attention to them.

“Has the General shown itself yet?” Hera asked without delay.

“No,” Artemis answered. “We’ve just been holding them back from the Alienage for now. But there’s been no sign of—”

A roar from the other side of the gate cut her off. As she whirled about to look, an ogre busted through the wood, sending it splintering apart. The archers attempted to retreat while those that could drew blades, instead. Sten grunted, readying Asala in his grip.

Just behind the ogre was a heavily armored darkspawn, pumping its fist and blade in the air and commanding a charge on the Alienage. Without the wall there, the place would be far less defensible than it had been. But they had to try.

“Sten, get the General,” Artemis said in a hurry, then looked to Hera and Zevran. “Ogre.”

One word was all she needed for them to understand. They set about distracting it with the help of Hera’s mabari. Meanwhile, Artemis ran for Leliana, keeping the high ground and staying far from the chaos of battle. Artemis focused her fire on the darkspawn General, giving Sten much needed support. Leliana helped Zevran and Hera, though kept Sten in her periphery just in case.

Finding places to strike the heavily armored darkspawn proved difficult. Many of Artemis’ arrows snapped or just bounced off without leaving so much as a scratch. She slowed her shots, taking more time to aim in hopes that her arrows could slip through the cracks and wound him. A couple of arrows hit, but Sten was clearly doing more of the damage.

Artemis’ job quickly turned from assisting against the General, to keeping other darkspawn from swarming Sten. She commanded the attention of a few Dalish archers up on the rooftops, as well, keeping hurlocks and genlocks from leaping at the Qunari. That way the fight was kept at an even match the whole way through.

The ogre fell without much trouble. It seemed the others had gained a fair amount of experience against the beasts by then, knowing exactly which places to strike and how to keep from getting hit, themselves. Hera was quick to join in the efforts against the General, while Zevran and Scooby wound around them in efforts to assist Artemis and her archers.

The fight ended when Hera slid her daggers into the creature’s neck, just under its helmet. That was enough to bring it down. More darkspawn yet came, but they were easy to finish off.

As soon as they had a moment of reprieve, Artemis readied a quiver of arrows and leapt from the platform. “Let’s get to Fort Drakon,” she said. “The Wardens might need us.”

“And what of the Alienage?” Leliana asked.

“The Dalish will keep this place safe,” said one of the archers, coming up behind them. “Go and help the Grey Wardens. Our hunters will destroy any darkspawn that attempts to come here.”

Artemis nodded at them in thanks. She felt the sudden urge to go, to hurry towards the others. Leliana’s hand found hers, squeezing tight to silently say, “I’m here with you.” They held on as they went, running across the bridge to escape the Alienage.

Up above, they could just barely see the Archdemon, with someone aboard its back. From what Nyx had said, Artemis believed that had to be Riordan. He cut into the Archdemon’s wing, tearing the flesh so it could no longer sustain its flight. The move was a success, but next thing they knew, he was falling.

“Come on,” Artemis said, “we have to go.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Wynne was still— _still_ —going around and healing the guardsmen and volunteers who had fought alongside them. Oghren had plopped on the ground, tired of standing around and waiting for the fight. The dwarves around him released a chorus of grunting, about as frustrated with the inaction as he was.

“When do we get to kill some sodding darkspawn?” Oghren complained.

Shale, beside him, rolled her eyes. Or at least, she wanted to. Being made of stone didn’t allow one the chance to be too expressive.

“One would think it would be satisfied with how much carnage it saw before the arrival of the Grey Wardens,” Shale said. “That it would be grateful for the respite.”

“I am _not_ an it!” Oghren said. “And that was different. Didn’t have the Legion breathing down my neck expecting me to prove myself to them after years of being nothing but a waste of space drunkard. And the Warden put her faith in me and everything, so I _need_ to do something to show for it. Can’t do that without some bleeding heads to chop off!”

“Yes, I do see how these moments of relative peace could wear on it so,” Shale said. “Poor little dwarf, so squishy and sad.”

Oghren grumbled something obscene and stood back up. “I’m gonna go talk to the mage. Holler if something interesting happens, Ancestors forbid.”

He made his way over to Wynne, cursing his ass for itching under his armor. After so long in leather and metal, one did begin to chafe. No one mentioned—in all the great tales of the previous Blights—all the minor inconveniences that the heroes were forced to suffer on top of the darkspawn hordes coming for them. Oghren figured those stories would be more relatable if they talked about the great Grey Wardens needing to find a latrine so they could relieve themselves.

He shared this thought with Wynne, who wrinkled her nose. Apparently, she didn’t agree.

“Shouldn’t you be standing guard? Setting an example for the men?” Wynne said.

“Aw, face it, woman! We got the bunk job,” Oghren complained. “All the darkspawn went to follow the dragon and the Wardens to where all the fun is. No one wants some lousy gate defended by an army of dwarves. They fight dwarves all the damn time. They’re probably as sodding bored of fighting us as we are of fighting them!”

“Nyx said that there would be a group that would break through at one point in exactly this area. She put us on the job for a reason, _Oggie,_ ” Wynne said, adding the affectionate pet name to taunt him.

Oghren only grumbled more. “Only the Warden is allowed to call me that, and even then it’s only when I’m in a good mood. Which I’m not.”

“Well, I apologize. But I can’t summon up the darkspawn for you to fight. Just be patient. I would think you’d be happy for a rest.”

“You and the rock keep singing the same sodding tune.” Oghren was done with the both of them, now. If all they could tell him was that he should be grateful or happy or pleased, he didn’t want to hear them talk at all. He returned to his pacing, resolving to be content with relative silence.

But oh how happy he was when a pale-faced messenger ran for him, face coated in sweat.

“Darkspawn came round from the other gate, just as Warden Nyx predicted!” he told Oghren, pointing in the direction from which the monsters came. “We’ve got to beat them back, keep them from overwhelming more of the city!”

Oghren chuckled, taking his axe in his hands and practically twirling it with glee. He turned to the dwarven armies, raising his weapon to get their attention. “You heard the man! Time to show these darkspawn what you’re worth. May the Ancestors favor our battle, and return our fallen to the Stone!”

The dwarves around him cheered. Shale grunted and fell in with Oghren, while Wynne was brought over from the healing area to join them. They would need to protect their wounded, as well as Denerim itself.

Hurlocks and genlocks burst forth from the gate they’d been defending, screeching and gurgling as darkspawn did. Oghren lead the first charge, swinging into the bodies of the creatures and hacking at their greyed limbs. Shale—with new red crystals she’d added to her arms—swung at the darkspawn. Her stone hands sparked on impact, setting many of the beasts on fire and burning away their flesh.

Wynne kept her distance, this task made easier by the sheer number of warrior dwarves keeping the darkspawn from coming for her. She maintained her mana with the intention of healing her allies over time. She kept a panacea active, healing those closer to her over time. They had all been instructed to fall back when they were too weak, into the area that her magic fed into. As soon as they were better, these dwarves would rejoin the fray.

There was no denying that the dwarves felt a swell of pride to fight alongside a golem. While they understood (to some degree) that there was a good reason for the Warden to decide not to make any more of them, there was something special about this living weapon of dwarven origin being used to save the world. Not that any of them would say it to this particular golem’s face. They had gotten to know enough about Shale to realize that would be a bad idea.

But Shale did seem to be enjoying herself, at least. She took on a whole ogre by herself, not to mention a few alphas and a couple of emissaries. She had no need to hold back, no energy to keep up, and no remorse about smashing these darkspawn to bits. Shale would kill and kill until she ran out of targets. And all of this because she’d chosen this battle. There was something in that freedom that made the violence more pleasant.

Oghren, on the other hand, reminded the rest of those nug-humping piss-drinkers that he was still warrior caste at heart, even on the surface. The only one to kill more darkspawn out there than he did was Shale, and that was due only to unfair advantages. Not once did he retreat to Wynne’s panacea to heal, though she did shoot a couple of healing spells his way when it seemed dire.

At the end of it, he held up the head of a hurlock and roared with wild abandon. The other dwarves cheered, and even Wynne found herself giving into the applause. Oghren had worked hard to earn this moment; she decided she may as well acknowledge him.

Even with their fight done, the adrenaline took a while to pass. The dwarves regaled each other with their finest kills and rose their flasks in Oghren’s name. Not a one of them would forget what this drunken Surfacer had done any day soon.

♢♢♢♢♢

They’d hoped the path to the Fort would be cleared by now, given that Nyx and the others had run ahead, but those that had been left behind in the Alienage and the marketplace were struggling to catch up. From ogres to shrieks, there were still many darkspawn littering the area. They came across a number of Arl Eamon’s knights, both living and dead. The ones who still drew breath pointed the Wardens’ friends in the right direction, doing all that they could to send them forward.

Artemis was breathing heavily, keeping to the back of the group and making sure to be alert of her surroundings. They could take on a few enemies at a time, but many of the darkspawn came at them when they noticed the way they attempted to sneak past the fight. They’d been singled out for their importance among the rest of the soldiers.

Over time, the fighting separated them. Hera and Zevran were drawn into a fight with a number of hurlocks and shades, plus one alpha. Leliana and Sten wound up fighting two emissaries and a few genlocks on their own. Artemis was furthest from them all, caught up with some of the knights against an ogre.

“Stay back, archer!” one of Eamon’s knights called. “Let us handle this!”

“I can help you!” Artemis insisted, but the man didn’t appear to listen as he rushed forward. She kept around the outside of the battle anyway, as she was meant to do. Loosing arrow after arrow into the giant, Artemis fought. At times a hurlock would come too close for comfort, and Artemis would have to make a temporary retreat. But, circling around, she found safe places to fire from.

When her supply of arrows fell low, she searched for dead archers. Allies or enemies, it didn’t matter. The darkspawn arrows were not as sturdy, however, and carried the taint like everything else the darkspawn touched. A certain amount of care was required in handling them. Finding a bundle fallen near a roaring flame, Artemis took the opportunity.

Fire scorched the ogre’s hide, morphing its fury into wild panic as it tried to strike itself and put out the flaming arrows. At first, this made it more difficult for the soldiers to fight it, but they recognized the erratic behavior and used it to their advantage. Artemis kept up with the ogre, planting new arrows of fire to replace the ones that the beast managed to extinguish.

It roared, then whipped its head around in a surprising moment of clarity. The ogre was searching for the source of the flames. Yet, its task was made difficult by the soldiers that still rounded its heels, poking and slicing holes into its skin that bled.

Fury filled the beast. It reached down with a massive paw and snatched up one of Arl Eamon’s men. The first was thrown until he struck a far wall of stone. His body snapped, twisted, and fell in an unnatural contortion. His eyes never closed, but his body went still.

The second was grabbed soon after the first soldier died. This one the ogre simply crushed in its palm, squeezing until the bones within him cracked and his armor crumpled like it was no more than a thin foil. He fell to the ground beneath him, blood pouring from the gaps in his plating.

The third attempted to run, escaping until he had a better force with which to take on the giant darkspawn. But what the ogre lacked in speed, it made up for in its lengthy stride. It reached out a fist and brought it arcing down. Between the ground and the ogre’s closed fist, the man’s body broke.

Artemis was far from the ogre yet, but now had its full and undivided attention. It released another long roar in its fury, then started into a charge. With the horns on its head, it looked rather much like a rushing bull.

Artemis rolled out of the way, tucking her bow under her in a way to prevent it from breaking. She made a mad dash away, forgetting the fight in place of finding her allies. Leliana had to be somewhere around here, yet. She wouldn’t leave Artemis behind. Nor would Sten, she thought. And Hera and Zevran hardly seemed like people who abandon their friends when there was a good fight to be had.

She searched, eyes wide and heart _pounding_ in her chest. She scanned the expanse for someone massively tall, or with red hair and a bow. Artemis never should have allowed herself to become so split from them. The thought would have been more helpful if it had occurred to her before an ogre was hot on her heels.

In the chaos she saw a flash of red—not that of blood but that of Leliana’s hair—and paused. A heavy breath of relief escaped Artemis’ lungs as she gathered herself again to make the final sprint towards her love. She could even see Sten nearby, and knew he would relish in this fight.

Artemis did not turn to check how close the ogre had come before lifting her foot to move again. She could tell from the vibrations in the ground that it was yet far from her.

But a shrieking filled her ears. It seemed as if the sound was all around her until a sharp and stinging pain swelled up in her back. A cry choked in her throat as it closed up.

Artemis could feel the shriek’s claw within her back, digging into her vitals and bleeding her. The pain was immense and froze her in place as she tried gasping for air. She could barely rattle out a single breath before she curled in on herself, weakened and overcome by the agonizing sharpness of the single claw raking within her.

Her legs buckled. Artemis was still so far from her friends, and she didn’t have the energy to call for help. The shriek removed its hand from her back with another one of its disgusting cries, then tore off towards the rest of the fighting. She was no longer a worthy target, injured and falling onto her stomach.

It was all she could do to reach out a hand as she fell. Her own blood pooled beneath her in a puddle of red. Artemis knew it should be warm—the scent of iron arresting her senses—but she shivered instead with cold. The flames around her dimmed to dark, and Artemis slipped away.

♢♢♢♢♢

Arms sore, back aching, and legs threatening to give way, Leliana knew they had to continue on. The fight would be endless unless they reached the Archdemon. To do that, they first needed to meet with the Grey Wardens.

She knew Hera and Zevran were ahead somewhere, nearer to the gate. Sten was at Leliana’s side. Which left only Artemis’ location as a mystery. There was a worry at the notion of being separated that had not left her since the more intense bout of fighting began.

She called to Sten and told him to prepare to push through the horde. Eamon’s men knew what they were trained for, and could sufficiently guard the area without their help. Their job was to help Nyx and Alistair, as much as they could. Sten grunted his acknowledgement, waiting for Leliana to move and lead him forward. He would not leave her behind.

Leliana scanned the battlefield, the toll of dead only rising with each passing moment. The corpses that littered the ground were more darkspawn than soldier, but still the loss was apparent. Dread started to take seed deep in the pits of her stomach. In her mind she prayed to the Maker as her eyes focused on a spot of white against the dark pavement.

It was Artemis’ braid, and the pale locks were spotted with blood. Leliana let out a scream of terror before running to where the elven woman lay. She wasn’t moving, not even a gentle rise and fall of someone taking a breath. Leliana sank to her knees next to Artemis, brushing gentle fingers against the back of her neck.

“Artemis?” she whimpered.

There was no motion, not even a twitch. Artemis’ blue eyes were closed, as if she was merely sleeping. But Leliana knew it was not that.

“Art?” Leliana said, her voice raising slightly in volume. “Artemis, please!”

Leliana gave Artemis’ shoulders a violent shake. Nothing. Nothing came. No sound or movement to respond to her calls. Just stillness and silence.

Sten was behind her, a protective force against any other darkspawn that came for them. Even his dark eyes had difficulty leaving the body and the blood beneath it. _Kadan._

Leliana could see the wound in Artemis’ back. The bleeding had slowed to a stop, but the hole was gaping, cutting right through her armor. Leliana brought a hand to cover her mouth and fought the sobs that stole her breath.

Sten was fighting again, keeping stray hurlocks from getting too close. In a rush of sudden strength, Leliana lifted herself and her bow and fired on any darkspawn that were near. They needed a clear path. They needed to go, get to Cronus. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe _something_ could still be done.

...no. He was _splintered._ Why hadn’t he warned them? Cronus had not told Leliana that this would happen. In doing so, he may as well have killed Artemis himself. Leliana felt cold.

“Sten! Take her!” Leliana said when there was enough peace around them to move again. He looked at her in puzzlement, but she choked out a single, “ _Please._ ” It was enough to break even him.

Sten lifted Artemis—his _kadan_ —up into his arms. She was not the first soldier he had lost, but he knew this was different, somehow. Artemis was no Qunari, who accepted that this task was hers to succeed in or to bring her end. She would not have believed in what the Qun told him—that the body was a meaningless vessel for the soul and that there was no value in attempting to honor the flesh left behind. She was elven and would have wanted some kind of ceremony for her dead. Leliana was the same.

An unfamiliar feeling wrenched in Sten. He knew of despair and of loss—he was not unfeeling. But this sense of pity, this personal hurt that sank into his gut was more. If there was not duty left, if there was not a Blight to end, he feared he would have lost himself as he had before at the loss of Asala, blinded with rage and grief.

The other elves looked on in horror at Sten’s approach. Hera and Zevran watched Leliana pass them with a cool command to hurry and get to the gate, and silently agreed that they would not bother with empty words.

Leliana lead them forward, understanding Nyx in a more visceral way than ever before. But the Changeling was gone, and time was set in stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made [a post](https://theramblingscribe.tumblr.com/post/163466370723/regarding-artemis) on my writing blog in regards to this chapter and what I decided to do with this story at this point. If Artemis' death has upset you, I ask that you read it before leaving any kind of comment or messaging me.
> 
> Thank you for reading as always and I am sorry. There are things yet to come that this leads to and I hope you stick with the story.


	37. For the Grey Wardens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Music for the first section.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVLP-URFgQo) And [another track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pICAha0nsb0) for after they reach the roof.  
> [Song not necessary for listening](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUjFXC-oyJQ), but it’s called “Nyx” so how could I resist sharing it?

Along with a slew of darkspawn, the front of Fort Drakon had dragonlings guarding the doors. Cronus groaned at their inability to catch a damned break, but the other Wardens were already rushing forward, so he fought as he was meant to. This particular battle was taxing on his mana, and felt like it lasted a lifetime. Which was saying something, as he held hundreds (if not thousands) of lifetimes in his mind.

But the dragonlings fell as anything else did, and the emissaries and the alphas and all the monsters in the world would not stop them from reaching that rooftop. Cronus passed a bottle of lyrium potion to Morrigan, whom he already knew would need it as he did. He popped the cork on a second one and downed the contents. Energy filled him again, but his muscles already felt a dull pain.

It was difficult to balance what time he spent fighting and what time he gave to healing. Cronus had questioned Nyx’s decision to leave Wynne behind at the gates, but she wanted to see that the wounded left there were cared for. Plus, Oghren could use it in case they ran into trouble. Cronus doubted the dwarf would truly have any issues, however.

In all, it took the group a while to gather themselves again. Alistair had been fine fighting beside Loghain, but would not accept or offer help to the man afterwards. If he wasn’t a Warden like the rest of them, Loghain would have surely been left with the dwarven forces. In case any of them perished before they could reach the roof, all the Grey Wardens needed to be present. Not even a knowledge of the future could help much in the chaos of possibilities.

Perseus was barking, his attention at the courtyard entrance. Everyone turned their gazes, tensed for another battle or even to run, but the mabari’s barking was given a reply as Scooby came into view. The dogs ran around one another, glad to be reunited. Hera and Zevran were the next ones they saw, followed by Leliana and Sten.

But Sten held someone in his arms. The approaching group did not match the energy of the mabari, taking on a rather somber attitude instead. Leliana’s blue eyes lifted and she bolted straight for Cronus.

“You need to help her!” Leliana demanded. “Fix this.”

“Who—?” Cronus cut himself short with a sharp inhale. He recognized the elven woman’s white hair spilling over, some of it dyed by blood. “Oh.”

Even without touching the body, even without getting any closer, he could tell there was no magic that could fix this. Not even necromancy could return the body to the state it was once in. She was gone.

And Cronus still didn’t remember her name.

“There’s nothing to be done,” Cronus said.

Leliana would have none of it. “Surely you can do something! Or could have told me! Warned me!” She shook her head fiercely. “She can’t just be gone. You should have known something would happen!”

“It’s not as if I can know what future is going to occur with absolute certainty,” Cronus insisted.

They still didn’t understand what his power was. They didn’t understand that he could not see one clear future, but all of them, mixing together in his splintered mind. The demon’s gift was clarity, understanding the best choices and courses of action within the chaos. But Cronus didn’t have the demon, just the scrambled mess of a mind the Changeling had given him.

“If I were able to warn you,” Cronus continued, “I would have. But I saw futures in which all of us die. Ones where we even _fail,_ losing Denerim and letting the Blight spread outside of Ferelden. The best warning I could have given with all that I saw would have been something you already knew. ‘Don’t die.’”

Leliana slapped him. Actually slapped him, full across his face. He almost didn’t feel it at first, the shock numbing him from it. But once his brain had a second to process the information, a warm stinging sensation rose in his cheek. It was pinked where her hand had made contact.

Cronus glared, ready to be angry with her, but stopped himself. Her eyes were full of tears, and everyone else was...silent.

Except, that is, for Morrigan, who was coming up behind him. “Such violent outbursts will achieve nothing, Leliana. Much as it may pain you Artemis is gone,” she said. Her tone was cool, even (as they were used to), but there was an unfamiliar softness underneath the words. By the reaction to them, Cronus figured he might have been the only one to hear it.

“No,” Leliana said. “I don’t believe him. He knew everything else. The Landsmeet. The attacks on the Alienage. He showed us. He must have known. You _must_ have known!”

Nyx swept in then, trying to console Leliana. Others offered support in their own ways. Morrigan huffed at the scene, looking instead to Cronus. And he…

Cronus was staring at the ground. He searched the splintered lines, the different paths time could take. How many times did this occur? Should he have known?

A theme started to rise. It wasn’t clear or certain at first, but he focused on Artemis— _her name, he never remembered her name, why hadn’t he bothered to try?_ —and followed the many ways her life took shape. He saw her die young more times than he saw her live to become old. She died to the lordling who tormented Alienage elves, to Denerim guardsmen, to darkspawn, to the Archdemon. It was like she’d lived her whole life with a target on her back.

Perhaps he ought to have known, but there was no more turning back time. That magic was lost with his other self. The permanence of death was their reality once again. And that reminder, the reality of it all, made Cronus afraid.

They went inside, killing the darkspawn in their way and clearing the first room. They shut the doors behind them, blocking them to keep out any more reinforcements. The soldiers they needed were already in the building, fighting tooth and nail to make a way for the Grey Wardens to get through.

Sten laid the body down. He could not simply carry her forever. Nyx knelt by Artemis, picking up her bow and quiver. Artemis had no need for them anymore.

Everyone was looking to each other for an answer of what to do. Artemis deserved better than to serve as carrion for the darkspawn. She deserved a pyre. Honor.

Even Cronus thought so. It would never make what happened okay, but he could help. He would search Leliana’s future, lead her to the best outcomes he could find. Maybe then he would feel some relief from the nagging guilt in his chest.

To start, he would do right by Artemis. “Bring her to that room, over there,” Cronus said, pointing from Sten to an empty room. He knew from visions that this had been a small arm of the Chantry, a presence in Fort Drakon for the prisoners. It seemed fitting.

Sten grunted, but did as he was asked. Leliana looked frightened by this sudden demand, but waited to see what Cronus had planned. He had Sten close the doors behind him, before Cronus rose a strong barrier over it.

“That will keep her for now. No darkspawn should be able to get through that. Artemis will have the pyre she deserves, when this is over,” Cronus said.

Leliana still looked furious with him, and grief-stricken, but she took a deep breath and nodded. Her acceptance was born of exhaustion. They’d been fighting for so long. Fighting for something they knew had to come, though on the edges of their nerves lay the fear that it might not occur as planned. Already they had lost someone—an ally, a lover, a friend. They could lose more before the Archdemon was dead. 

Cronus refused to let his mind be taken by such thoughts. He had a future. Morrigan had a future. Their child had a future. He would see this through, to be able to see _those_ through.

And if all went as planned, he would guarantee a future for Leliana, as well.

Nyx lead the way again, sparing one last pitying glance at Leliana. The bard pretended not to notice, sniffling as she hesitantly followed along. Under her breath, she recited the Chant of Light as she walked forward. The words felt somewhat hollow, but still she spoke them to herself, trying to picture Artemis standing at the Maker’s side.

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx was trying to keep her head, but it was more difficult than it had been in a while. The location didn’t help. It had not been so daunting before, when it was clean and full of soldiers, but now it was full of darkspawn, their taint, and the corpses they left behind. That triggered memories unlike anything ever had before.

And her mind kept wandering back to the body. The _body_ , of her dead friend, of another person she stood to lose. Had Artemis even understood that Nyx considered her as such? It was as if Nyx was to blame for bringing her along with them so long ago, when they’d first met in Denerim. At the time it had seemed like a good idea, but she was small and thin and frail. Nyx should have left her behind.

Alistair was ever at her side, recognizing her mood and watching her. Finally, it seemed they had a moment to breathe again and regroup. Sandal stood, offering potions that he had on his person to those that needed, though Bodahn was nowhere to be found. How the boy even got there was a mystery to everyone, but they were grateful for the help he offered.

Nyx still had Artemis’ weapons with her, finding a place for them with Stargazer on her back. Nyx figured they might as well see some use, even if the arrows simply served as extra ammunition for Leliana. Nyx watched Sandal produce more enchanted arrows from a small cart he had with him, and knew it probably wouldn’t be necessary.

She stalked off to one end of the room, and Alistair followed.

“Is there anything I can do to help you right now?” he asked. Asking if she was alright felt foolish, as she clearly was not. Saying it this way was a little better.

“Not really,” Nyx said. “But having you here helps. So just...be here?” She tried to laugh to prove she would be alright, but it came out as nothing more than a sigh.

She ran through strategies, trying to distract herself from the present by remembering what was yet to come. She knew there were two ogres just before the final door to get to the roof, but they were a ways from there yet. There should be nothing in the next room—or maybe it was just a couple of Hurlocks?

After that it was clearer. Two Alphas and an Emissary. With focused attacks, it would be easy enough considering their number. Morrigan could take on the Hurlock Alpha with Hera and Nyx, with Leliana lending support from afar. Which left Artemis to…

Nyx shook her head. _Just one archer, now. Remember._

She finished planning the next few rooms. While they moved on, and even as they fought, she thought of more strategies to make these fights quick and easy. The sooner they reached their final target, the better.

These fights were oddly nostalgic for Nyx, if it’s possible to have unpleasant nostalgia. But things were so much better, so much brighter. She looked back at Morrigan, who wiped a bit of sweat from her brow after killing a darkspawn, and relaxed. Her magic would work. They would be safe. The rest of them could live.

But Artemis’ death served as a chilling reminder that death might not come from the Archdemon alone. It was no accident that Nyx had Alistair close to her for all her plans. Additionally, it was no mistake of _his_ that he kept close to her, regardless of what the plan had been.

There were traps set, ambushes planned, and the darkspawn seemed more clever than ever before. That was the mind of the Archdemon at work, but it could only command a huge army so well against enemies that could already think for themselves. The Wardens and their allies continued to come out on top, defeating anything that stood in their way.

When the last of the ogres at the final doors fell, Nyx stood and took a moment for herself.

_“This is it,” Alistair said._

_Nyx nodded. Her grip was tight around the curve of her bow and her arms ached from the constant pull of the string. This wouldn’t last much longer, and that was a relief. Then she’d get to see if it was her people or the shemlen who were right. Unless housing an archdemon’s soul before death denied a person of that choice._

_“The Archdemon is through these doors?” Leliana said. Her voice trembled, just slightly. They were all afraid, really. Not much point in hiding it._

_“Yes,” Nyx confirmed. She could feel its presence. If the other darkspawn gave her the feeling of a gentle itch in the back of her skull, this was like claws raking through her skin and scarring the bone beneath. It tore at her, but didn’t repel her. Instead, in a sick way, it attracted her and drew her close._

_“Are you...alright?” Alistair asked._

_The truth was, she wasn’t. But he didn’t want to know that. Alistair was looking to see if his ally was still strong. Nyx was no more than that to him now. She knew that, didn’t she?_

_“Yes,” Nyx said. “Let’s go. The Archdemon needs to die.”_

She’d been so wrong. She looked to Alistair now and saw the same loving concern his eyes had worn in that memory. He had always loved her, even when he shouldn’t.

Nyx threw the fear from her mind and found bravery instead. She found determination and willpower, and above all, hope. This was the end of the Blight, but not of them. Nyx believed that. She really, truly did.

The doors swung open to the rooftop, where allies were already busy with the battle. At a glance she could spy Irving, Arl Eamon, and Kardol, commanding small forces they’d brought with them. It was difficult for them to fight the massive dragon, even as its injured wing kept it grounded most of the time. The horde was just too large a force to handle as well as attacking the Archdemon.

But that was what the Grey Wardens were there for.

Nyx readied herself, and shouted commands in the strongest voice she could muster. “Loghain and Hera, I want the two of you manning the far ballista. Get yourselves there as fast as you can. Sten and Zevran, I need you on the ballista that’s closer to us. If they ever jam up, fix them, but don’t leave yourself vulnerable to attack.

“Leliana, Morrigan, and Cronus, keep your distance from any and all darkspawn. Focus your fire on the Archdemon and Cronus, reserve your mana for healing our allies. I don’t want any more casualties, if we can help it.”

She looked to Perseus, who was already prepared to go as soon as she gave the word. Then Nyx lifted her gaze, only allowing it to soften slightly for him. “And Alistair...you’re with me.”

“Always,” Alistair agreed.

“You have your orders! Now move out!” Nyx shouted.

There was a flurry of movement as they found their respective places on the battlefield.

Hera was uncertain as to why she had been paired with Loghain, but didn’t bother with complaints. They were together in this cause, and at least the man would do his duty in this. She just hated that she couldn’t slip past the enemies and hurry ahead of him. Instead, she helped to dispatch the darkspawn in their way, with Scooby at her heel doing the same. Hera did eye the new glowing sword that Loghain wielded, but in the heat of battle she was unable to comment on it.

Zevran and Sten were a little more in sync, which came from all the time they had spent fighting with one another since meeting many months ago. For Zevran, it was strange to consider the time gone by. For Sten, it was not strange that his mind was completely focused on the battle. Thoughts of the past, or even of the future, could wait until there was one more dead Archdemon to add to the history books. They cleared through their path of darkspawn with astounding swiftness, and reached the ballista.

Morrigan kept her head in the fight, but was oddly lighter than before. She was so prepared to flee, to leave at the last moment as soon as she was no longer needed. There was no doubt of their success in her mind. She considered it inevitable, even if Cronus had seen futures proving that it wasn’t. Her departure was the same, to her. Morrigan would wait, yet, and did not let her heart linger on Cronus.

Cronus, who, was still impossibly wracked with guilt. Impossible because he had never considered himself to be one who cared much for the fates of others. Morrigan and thoughts of a son made him sentimental, which in turn made him soft, which left him with empathy he’d never learned to adjust to. So as he stood with Leliana, he kept his focus on protecting the others, as Nyx had commanded.

Leliana found a peace in her arrows, sinking them one after another deep into the hide of the dragon. Some rebounded from its scales, but still she fired whenever she got a clear shot. The beast would fall. Maybe it could serve as revenge. Maybe it could fill some of the hole in her gut. Maybe it would at least be good to know she’d helped save those still breathing.

Alistair thought of all the changes he’d been through. From a boy that seemed unwanted, raised by nobility but not quite noble, to a templar recruit who never wanted to be among them, to Grey Warden who wasn’t sure he deserved the honor. With Duncan life had started to make sense, and then they’d gone to Ostagar. He knew Duncan would return with more help, another potential Warden. What Alistair never could have predicted was Nyx.

And Nyx had only changed him more. He hoped it was for the better, but he could never really tell. All he knew was that he stood with her, supported her, and believed in her. If anyone could end the Blight, it was Nyx.

While she swung Stargazer, Nyx thought of nothing but the fight. _Dodge, swing, dodge, retreat, push back, swing._ She watched Alistair in her periphery, just to be certain he was alright, and looked sometimes to Perseus. The mabari kept the horde from getting to her, while she kept on attacking the dragon.

“Shield up!” Nyx called to Alistair.

He rose Duncan’s shield and she ducked behind it, protecting themselves from a burst of spirit fire the dragon spewed from its mouth. She knew, from some piece in the deep recesses of her memory, exactly how long the dragon’s breath would last. Nyx pulled back out from under the shield to cut into the Archdemon while it was still vulnerable.

When it moved, they kept with it as close as they could. Attacks from each of the ballistas slowed the dragon, bringing it back to the ground even sooner than it wanted to come down. Eamon fell in step with them, and waited for Nyx’s word on the attacks she seemed almost _too_ good at predicting. Almost as if it wasn’t her first fight with an Archdemon. He never had to know.

Before long, and earlier than Nyx would have predicted it, the Archdemon flew to a solitary platform that they could not reach by foot. The warriors would have to busy themselves against the horde. This was why she’d prepared her allies as she had.

“Cronus, the signal!” Nyx called.

He let out a small red flare of magic, and the ballistas turned. They would alternate their fire, hitting fast and hard. They would be relentless in their onslaught, showing the dragon that it could not escape their attacks.

Morrigan and Leliana were still able to attack over the gap, though they kept on their toes for the movement of darkspawn that snuck too close. Nyx called Alistair over in an attempt to further shield their ranged attackers, when Nyx remembered Artemis’ bow.

She made the snap decision to sheathe Stargazer, momentarily confusing Alistair, before he saw her take up the bow and nock an arrow. He’d forgotten she’d once been an archer herself.

It was on this very same roof that Nyx had once missed the most important shot she’d ever made. It was here, on the roof of Fort Drakon, that Nyx also swore to herself she would never miss again. The arrowhead was tipped with an enchanted flame, and she let it fly, leaving a trail of light in its wake.

The Archdemon screamed from the constant barrage. Arrows, magic, and massive spears from the ballistas wounded it. It tried in vain to swat some of these attacks away, releasing another furious cry as another ballista fired and punctured its arm, instead.

It flew for the ballista, taking it up in its claws and dashing it against a wall. The Archdemon didn’t even seem to care that this effort crushed some of its own soldiers. Darkspawn were nearly endless, and thus expendable.

Zevran, who had been manning this ballista with Sten, hurried away from the dragon’s reach. He rolled out of the way, stumbling right into another fight. “Just my luck,” he said, and drew his daggers. At least Blights didn’t leave one with nothing to do.

Hera, in the meantime, was busy with a jammed ballista. She only prayed—to Mythal...the Maker...whoever would answer, at this point—that the Archdemon didn’t take flight again to take out hers as well.

Loghain caught her arm, and she pulled herself away in rage. “What the fuck are you doing?” Hera screamed.

“It’s out of range,” Loghain said, ice blue eyes true to their name as they glared at her coldly. “We’d serve better in melee.”

“Nyx commanded us to be here,” Hera said through her teeth. Yet, she looked to the Archdemon. It was breathing heavily, with no sign of moving closer anytime soon. The ballista would take a while to fix, and might not even be useful. Hera ceded his point. “Fine, let’s go already!”

Loghain grunted, but followed along. In a strange way, he was enjoying this. He would have said it reminded him of his youth if that didn’t make him feel so much like an old man so far out of his prime. Even if that was exactly what he was.

They cleaved through more darkspawn together, rejoining the rest of the Grey Wardens. Loghain slid closer to the Archdemon, prepared to back up Nyx were she to need it. Hera stayed closer to Zevran and Sten, who were keeping one section of the horde from closing in on the Wardens.

Nyx and Alistair were ever the team as Nyx took back up her blade. It had been a refreshing change of pace to return to a bow and arrows, but now was time to see this brought to an end. The dragon spat more spirit flame than it had been using before, and swung its claws in wild anger. It was desperate, she realized. And it was _losing._

Nyx cut at the Archdemon’s wrist when it tried to grab for her. It reeled backwards, its cry closer to a pained whine than any sort of roar. It ground its claws in the ground, its mouth sparking purple with another blast of spirit flame.

Nyx rolled out of the way when the fire spat down. She checked to see that Alistair had noted the sparks, and saw that he was a few feet back from where they’d been, his shield raised to defend himself. Safe, for now.

Cronus joined her side, throwing a barrier around her skin that laid over her like a hard shell. He shouted something, gesturing for the dragon. Nyx couldn’t hear the exact words over the roar of battle, but she caught his meaning. _Finish it._

She rushed forward, and struck under the dragon’s neck. She slid and caught its side, then tore another hole into one of its wings. Another cut at its hind legs had it staggering, then Alistair joined with a blow to the front, and it collapsed.

Nyx hurried back around to where Alistair stood, panting as he stared down at the dragon. Its form barely moved to take in what little air it still could. The beast was alive, but not for much longer.

Nyx started to raise her blade, when she heard a sharp _clang_ behind her. An Alpha had charged on them to defend its leader, with more darkspawn behind it.

“Go! I’ll defend you!” Alistair shouted over the noise. “You can do this, Nyx!”

She didn’t need to be told twice. With Stargazer tight in her hands, she faced the Archdemon and ran towards it.

_For Alistair._

She stood above the dragon.

_For myself._

The tip of her blade pointed down at the Archdemon’s skull.

_For the Grey Wardens._

Nyx threw her weight into Stargazer and let it crash down into the dragon’s head. Light seeped from this final wound, pouring into her.

She could feel it trying to crush her inside, drag her out of herself. The light burned. Nyx believed it was intentional, the Old God soul trying to take her down with it to get some form of preemptive revenge.

But there was another tether, placing itself between her and Urthemiel. The light that burned in Nyx slowly subsided and flowed in a new direction. It turned almost gentle, welcoming the soul of the Old God and giving it new form.

Nyx released a breath as she was released from the light’s grasp. Not even a moment later, it returned in front of her, folding in on itself before exploding outward.

Her ears rung and her eyes were blinded. Every sense was overtaken by brightness and flame. She could no longer feel Stargazer, she could barely feel anything other than the rush of air that pushed her back. There was one last sharp sting on the back of her head, and all light was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Relevant link~](http://theramblinggirl.tumblr.com/post/136893229314/this-is-for-what-you-took-from-me-last-time)


	38. Safe and Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This song makes me happy.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSbB3wAFJuA)

This room was familiar. _Too_ familiar, in the worst ways possible. This was where Nyx had once been told things that made her feel like she was living in a nightmare. Now, as she sat up and examined the space around her, there was the fear that she was still in that nightmare. That everything had been no more than a hopeful dream, showing her what she wanted to see.

Nyx touched her ear, and the fear dissolved. _Flat._ She was still human.

Last time she had awoken in this place, she hadn’t been alone. Leliana had been at her bedside when she opened her eyes and had been the one to tell Nyx that Alistair had died. Nyx inhaled sharply. He wasn’t dead now. He couldn’t...shouldn’t be; not with all the work she’d done to make things right.

But anxiety is not a thing that heeds reason. So Nyx leaned back in attempts to control her breathing, still too tired to stand and seek him out for herself. When the door opened, she sat up in a jolt that sent a pain through her back and neck, ending in a sharp sensation in her skull.

“Ow,” Nyx expressed.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Wynne said, making her way to the bed where Nyx was lying. She had a bowl of soup in her hands, which she left on the side table. “I thought you might need the full day before you would open your eyes, but here you are. The Grey Wardens certainly are resilient.”

Nyx had a lot of things on her mind, most of them questions, but first and foremost she needed to ask, “Alistair…?”

Wynne smiled and sighed. “He’s been asking for you since he woke up. I swear the two of you…” But she shook her head. “Give me a moment and I can go to get him. I need to be certain your head is healing like it should be.”

Nyx was patient while Wynne removed a bandage and checked on the injury. Apparently, besides some scrapes and bruises, this was the worst that Nyx had it. It had upset her spine as well, which would give way to a little extra soreness for the next few days. Otherwise, she was in really good condition, considering she’d just killed the Archdemon.

Nyx could feel a tingle on her scalp before Wynne pulled away. “A little something for the pain. If you start to have a headache, come find me and I’ll give you something for it. For now, though, just stay in bed and rest. We’ve got some big days ahead of us,” Wynne said.

Nyx cocked her head. “Bigger than the fight to end the Blight?”

“Perhaps not, but Alistair seems to think it is,” Wynne said with a laugh. “I’ll go get him for you now.”

After a few quiet moments alone, Nyx could hear some raised voices and a clamor. She was almost concerned until her door flew back open and she saw Alistair, his face red and covered with a look of deep concern. Their eyes met and he all but flew to her side.

“You’re awake, oh thank the Maker,” Alistair sighed and kissed her head. “Not that I doubted Wynne but… Okay maybe there was a little doubt.”

Nyx just grinned at him as he squeezed her hands. “Couldn’t stand being alone?”

“Couldn’t stand watching you just lie here, more like,” Alistair said. “After that light and then the explosion… You didn’t warn me about the explosion.”

“Sorry,” she said, but didn’t stop smiling.

“I suppose I will just have to forgive you,” Alistair decided.

Nyx looked down for a moment. “New armor?”

Alistair flushed a little. “It’s really just for show. Not much utility, but all shiny and gold...makes me look more important. _Kingly._ ” There was a hint of dread in that last word. “Your armor is over there, cleaned and polished and fixed up nice. They want you to wear it for the coronation, all ceremonial and what not.”

“Is that what happens next?” Nyx asked. “For once, I don’t actually know.”

Alistair had the look on his face that he always did when this subject came up. “The coronation is a week from today. Eamon thought that we ought to hurry up and get to it, so Ferelden can be united and have someone to look to for inspiration. And a proper leader.”

“You’ll be wonderful, Alistair. And I’ll be there for it,” Nyx said.

“That is one of the good things. You know, besides just the nice part of you being _you_ , I have someone to distract from a lot of the attention they’ll want to place on me. The ‘Hero of Ferelden.’”

It had been a long, long time since Nyx had heard that title. “They’re not giving that honor to you?

“What? No! They know who it was who _really_ brought those armies together. They know who fought Loghain and killed the Archdemon. You’re the person who ended this Blight,” Alistair said.

“Not alone,” Nyx insisted. “But...I don’t know, I kind of like the title this time. I didn’t think I deserved it before, not when you were…” She swallowed. “I think I’m okay with being called a Hero now.”

“I can think of no one more worthy of it,” Alistair said, and kissed her.

Nyx hummed against his lips with satisfaction. Everything felt right with the world. Though, she knew not everything was. Ferelden would need its king and its hero, after all it had lost.

“How is Leliana doing?” Nyx asked. There had been personal losses, as well.

“She’s better, I think, now that the fighting is done,” Alistair said, but sounded somewhat like he was trying to convince himself. “There will be a funeral for Artemis, in the Alienage. We’re all going together. Wynne convinced Arl Eamon it was a ‘good show of faith’ between the elves and the new king.” Then he snorted. “Little does he know, right?”

Nyx restrained from letting out a laugh of her own. “Yes, well, no one else is going to know about that, _ma vhenan,_ ” she said, whispering the elven phrase to emphasize its secret nature.

Going to Alienage funerals and supporting the elven population would still be necessary. By all rights, Nyx was human now, even if she still yearned for aravels and a good hunt. So, to the populace, she would appear to have the same ideas and desires as any shemlen. She would work to prove them wrong. Ferelden would move forward so long as she had any say in it.

“I admit, I do love it when you call me that,” Alistair said. Then, he planted a kiss on her forehead. “There are some others who wanted to see you, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to have you to myself for now.”

Nyx sighed, and moved to lean against him. Even though he was dressed in hard armor, beneath it she knew it was still Alistair, and that was a comfort in and of itself.

“They will have plenty of time to shower me with attention,” Nyx said. “I’d much rather be alone with you.”

Alistair wore his goofy smile, the one that showed he was truly elated. While she ate the soup Wynne had left—to not let it grow cold—he told Nyx all about what happened while she laid asleep. He recounted the last moments of the battle from his perspective, then how he’d rushed forward and called Cronus in to start healing her. A few others had been knocked out by the blast.

It hadn’t been long before Wynne, Oghren, and Shale joined them on the rooftop. Once the Archdemon died, a majority of the horde had fled the city. Most assumed they were headed for the Deep Roads, but a few stragglers were still being found on the surface.

She’d only been unconscious for a day and a half, so there hadn’t been time for many repairs, yet. Thanks to the preparations they’d made, however, the death toll was miraculously low. Already some of the families that had fled were making their way back home. Others, who had left Ferelden sooner and gone across the Waking Sea, would have to be contacted later, once word had spread that the country was safe once more. Many suspected that those people would opt to make a home wherever they’d landed, instead.

Alistair had received word about Goldanna, who had indeed lived. Nyx made a face as he explained that she’d been needed to testify about his lineage, and had apparently been in the castle earlier that day, even. She was only slightly more pleasant than she’d been last time, which surprised no one.

Talk of business and things tired Nyx quickly, however, so they moved on to lighter subjects. And soon after that, they fell silent, and just sat together. Nyx felt her head start to spin, so she closed her eyes. It wasn’t long before she’d fallen asleep.

Alistair left another kiss on her head, brushing some of the hair from her face. For now, he’d leave her to rest. After all, even with all their other duties, they would still have the rest of their lives to spend together. He could wait, just for a little while.

♢♢♢♢♢

Had the palace always been this bright? Nyx didn’t believe that she’d ever seen such light or such cheer in the throne room. It was packed full of people celebrating the end of the fifth Blight, the victory of the Grey Wardens, and the crowning of their new King. It was more just a ceremony for show, as Arl Eamon would be instructing Alistair for a while yet before he was ready to rule alone.

Yet, to the citizens and nobles of Ferelden, these things did not matter. They were alive and the land would be safe from darkspawn for some time. For that, they had their King to thank, as well as their new Hero.

Nyx stepped forward when she was bid, dressed in the same dragonbone armor she’d worn to defeat the Archdemon. She nearly brought Stargazer along as well, but remembered at the last moment that she wasn’t going off to battle. There was no need to fight, for once. No one would be attacking her or her friends. She still felt a bit naked without it, but tried to remind herself that the lack of a blade on her back was a good thing.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I formally present my betrothed, who will soon be your queen,” Alistair said. Nyx still felt the butterflies that thought brought her. “My friend, it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favor. As a reward—” he broke into a whisper for just a moment, “—and an engagement present, I offer a boon of your choice.”

They had already discussed other ideas, behind closed doors. Other things that would doubtless be done. They debated long and hard whether the request Nyx wanted to make publically was truly appropriate. In another life, it had been understood as something personal. Now it would seem confusing. But Alistair—who had in fact been the one encouraging to do as she pleased—convinced Nyx to be honest about her desires for the kingdom.

“There are many who count themselves among those who gave us aid. Many of those people saw a great deal of loss even before the fighting truly began. The Dalish, lead by Keeper Lanaya, saw many of their kin slaughtered in the wilds of the Brecilian Forest. I ask that we give this clan land of their own, so they may better protect themselves and flourish as a people,” Nyx said.

She’d gone over her wording of the request many times, and still there were some odd titters in the crowd. Alistair paid them no mind. They would have worked to do this either way. Now they were simply making the statement publically that they intended to assist the elven population of Ferelden.

“I think that can be accomplished. The Hinterlands to the north of the Korcari Wilds, including Ostagar, are hereby granted to the Dalish elves. It’s rugged land, and there will be much for us to work out...but let’s hope this is just a first step in our people working together,” Alistair said.

The double meaning was not lost on Nyx.

Now he addressed the crowd: “Let it also be known that the Arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, following the example of those who went before them. And as efforts are made to repair in Denerim what the darkspawn have destroyed, there shall also be a monument made to honor the fallen. The Grey Wardens, Duncan, Riordan, and their peers shall be included, as well as many of the others who gave their lives to protect our fine nation.”

Meaning, they were going to include Artemis. Shianni and Leliana had spoken, and requested it. An old thought yet haunted Nyx, _As if an honor in death makes the dying any better,_ but there was peace in Leliana in seeing this done. So Nyx kept from speaking the thought allowed. Her friend would already be grieving enough. It was good to give her something to hold onto.

Alistair turned to Nyx, now. “What are your plans?” he asked. This, of all things, they had not discussed. “I assume with the wedding you will be remaining in Ferelden?”

Nyx smiled. “I think you’ll need my help here.”

“Well, I didn’t want to come right out and say it, but I’m relieved you’ll be nearby,” Alistair admitted. “There’s a group of citizens outside waiting to get a look at their Hero. I suggest you make at least a brief appearance before they storm the gate.”

At this, the crowd watching dispersed into smaller groups that chatted joyously. At the door, two guards awaited word to escort the Hero of Ferelden out to greet the rest of the citizens who wished to sing her praises. Nyx couldn’t deny a bit of excitement at this. She had so many reasons to be happy, this time. There was nothing to keep her from enjoying the celebrations.

With a quick glance at the crowd, Nyx could spy all of her friends, save for Morrigan. But it was alright. Their destinies would go their separate ways, but they would each find their happiness. Nyx believed that.

Before anyone else, however, Nyx wished to speak to Alistair. She wanted to do many other things with Alistair, now that the pain in her head was gone and she was no longer forced to rest and recover. That could wait a bit longer.

“So we made it,” Alistair breathed.

People were kind enough to give them this moment, this space. They’d not seen too much of each other in the past few days, between Nyx’s recovery and the preparations being made for Alistair to take the throne. The time here and now couldn’t last long, but they took each others hands and stood close to savor every second.

“Even with all that you did, did you ever really expect this outcome?” he asked.

Nyx had to think about that one. She shook her head when she realized, no, she really hadn’t. She’d always suspected, some piece of her, that in her manipulation of time and in the lives she saved, there would be some punishment for her waiting at the end. Her death, or his again, to complete some sick cycle. Without the Changeling, there was no undoing what mistakes had been made now. Those who were lost were gone for good.

She gripped his hands tighter. “I hoped. Every second we fought, I hoped that it wouldn’t be the end. Sometimes this _still_ feels like a dream.”

Nyx did not want to cry again, but she couldn’t help a couple of tears. The joy was overwhelming. She’d made it. _They’d_ made it, together. There was a bitterness in the celebration, knowing that there were still friends that had been lost, loved ones now gone, but Nyx would hold fast to Alistair and keep hoping for the future to be brighter.

“I know what you mean,” Alistair said. He rested his forehead on hers. “I was so scared that I might lose you, but...here you are. And here I am.” He chuckled. “Not bad, right?”

“Not at all,” Nyx agreed, grinning.

“Morrigan really was telling the truth, then,” Alistair said. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the messages the Wardens are already sending. They want to know exactly how you’re still standing, but…”

Nyx bit her lip. “We shouldn’t tell them the truth. I know it’s another big secret, but I can’t imagine their reaction would be a positive one.”

“A fluke, then?” Alistair said. He leaned back a bit and groaned. “Not really sure what they would actually believe.”

Nyx laughed despite herself. “We really need to stop getting tangled up in dark magic,” she whispered.

“Hey, you started it,” Alistair said. “Can’t say I disagree, though. With Morrigan gone at least we don’t have to worry quite as much. Though I’m still concerned about what she could possibly have planned. And then there’s Cronus and his...weirdness.” He shuddered a little. “All a bit creepy, if you ask me.”

Nyx spared a glance at the splintered mage, who stood with Irving and Wynne looking bored out of his skull. “I doubt he’ll wait very long before searching for her. Demon baby or no, she’s carrying his child.”

“You said you found her once before, right? You’re not going to go looking again, are you?” Alistair said.

“No. Better to let her go, I think.”

“To be honest, I’m glad you won’t. Even if you two were friendly, I don’t trust her.”

Nyx nodded. Much as she wanted to, and much as she wished she could say differently, she still didn’t afford Morrigan her full trust either. Too many secrets, and too much confidence in the way she covered them.

“On a happier note,” Alistair said, drawing her face up by pressing two fingers under her chin, “I can’t wait to be alone with you. These formal affairs are already driving me insane.”

Nyx giggled. “Best get used to them.”

He shook his head, and rolled his eyes. “At least I won’t face any of it alone.”

She kissed him briefly, almost certain no one was watching. Even if they were, Nyx couldn’t find it in her to care. “Meet you upstairs later?”

Alistair grinned, and tried to make his voice sultry as possible. “Oh, I’ll be waiting, don’t you worry.” Then he returned the kiss with one of his own. “I’ll let you get to your adoring public. They want to see the Hero of Ferelden, and who am I to keep them waiting?”

“My future husband?” Nyx countered, if only because saying it still flooded her chest with warmth.

“There is that,” Alistair conceded. “I still don’t think they’d accept it if I kept you from them.”

“Probably not.”

“Try to have fun, then. I love you, Nyx. No matter what.”

Those last three words meant more to her than she could explain. The previous four, even counting her own name, were quite pleasing as well.

Still, Nyx managed to drag herself away. She watched Eamon slide easily from another conversation to immediately go to see Alistair, now that he was free. He had promised to go easy on them both for the celebrations, and from the laughter that burst from Alistair, it sounded like the Arl had been true to his word. Though rumor had it he wasn’t going to remain Arl of Redcliffe for much longer.

Nyx found Hera and Zevran first, and was shock still when Hera threw her arms around her.

“We did it!” Hera whispered into her ear.

Nyx nodded. She’d never seen Hera quite so jubilant. She was released from the hug a moment later so Hera could excitedly explain the plans she and Zevran had started to make. The Crows would not stay ignorant of his survival forever. They could not stay in one place when hunters looking for him would not be far behind. Even when Nyx offered the protection of the crown, Zevran shook his head.

“The Crows are practically rulers of Antiva in their own right. If they are determined to get to me—which they will be, I’m sure—they will find a way around you if they must. Or worse, through you, though I doubt they would risk that much of a political scandal. Never does one any good to underestimate them anyhow,” Zevran said.

“Besides, there’s plenty of world left to see. I’ve no place here anymore, and I think the clan will survive just fine without me,” Hera said.

“I’m happy for you, then,” Nyx decided. “Both of you.”

And Hera smiled, because so was she. “You know, all the things I thought you were once, I never thought you could be my friend. But here you are,” she said. “I’m glad you’re alive, Nyx Mahariel Cousland, and I’m glad you won him back.”

Nyx tried hard as she could to stop the tears that threatened, and managed to hold back even as her eyes watered. “I’m glad you and Zevran found each other. He deserves someone as amazing as you, Hera.”

Hera did pink a little bit, meeting Zevran’s eye as he laced his fingers with hers. “I am pretty amazing,” she said.

“That you are, my dear,” Zevran agreed.

A familiar voice broke through the crowd. “Sister?”

Hera’s eyes went wide at the sight of Fergus, though he was focused entirely on Nyx. When Nyx turned, she was caught up in another tight embrace. It was Hera’s turn to fight her tears, now.

“You’re alive,” Nyx breathed. “They didn’t tell me! No one said a word. But...how?”

“To be honest, I’m not really certain. We were in the Korcari Wilds, me and my men, and darkspawn fell upon us. So many were lost, and even those of us who started to get away were weak. I remember passing out, then next thing I know I’m in some old hut, not a scratch on me with my armor and weapons freshly cleaned. A few others survived with me, but none of them remembered either.

“When we reached civilization, we heard that Denerim had been attacked and _saved_. By you, sister,” Fergus explained. “Somehow I slept through the entire Blight.”

There was no doubt in Nyx’s mind that a certain Witch of the Wilds had something to do with his rescue. She blanched, hoping she had not incurred much of Flemeth’s wrath. Morrigan and Cronus had already made it very clear that the old woman was not gone from the world for long, and that she still had plans and tricks up her sleeve.

But she turned to Hera, and an idea came to her. One last good thing Nyx could do to make up for her misdeeds.

“Fergus, Hera…” she started. “Will you come with me for a moment?”

Nyx hurried across the hall and grabbed Cronus by the arm, who yelped and tried to pull himself from her grasp until he saw Fergus and Hera following close behind. Zevran had come along as well, already keen to Nyx’s plan and not wanting to miss a moment of it.

Fergus was dubious when Nyx asked him to close his eyes. It all seemed strange to him, and only got stranger once he relented. Cronus’ magic revealed another life, another version of himself whose sister was named Hera. Fergus trained not with dark-haired Nyx, but with a woman with fiery ginger hair and a gleam in her eyes. The woman who bore a shocking resemblance to the elven woman that had accompanied his sister.

And Fergus understood. “...Hera?” he said.

There was no holding back from crying after that. Hera and Fergus held each other tight, the forgotten world now remembered. For all the family that had been lost by the three of them, they still had each other. Fergus had _two_ sisters, hard as it was to believe.

Nyx spoke with Fergus for only a moment more before she slipped away. Hera needed time to catch up with her brother, to explain away some of the confusion. She would modify the story, just a bit, so he wouldn’t become afraid of Nyx.

Cronus, on the other hand, followed the Hero of Ferelden as she left the scene. “I need to talk with you.”

Nyx nodded. She’d expected as much.

“I’m going to find Morrigan,” Cronus said. There was no uncertainty in what he said. No need for it. “She’s found a way to block my visions, same as her mother does, but I already know the day I start looking, and I already know the path. You must remember it, as well.”

Nyx nodded again.

“Are you planning on coming with me?” he asked. “You can meet with me at Flemeth’s hut.”

This time, she shook her head. “I’ve said what I needed to her, before. That is your journey to take, now, without me.”

“I understand,” Cronus said, even seeming a bit relieved. “We have our own futures, right? Hard as all of it is to believe. And I have...I _will_ have a son. Kieran.” He already knew the name.

Nyx smiled softly. “I wish the both of you luck, and every happiness that life can grant you,” she said. “You fought beside us as much as anyone else. You deserve it.”

Cronus’ lips quirked upward, just slightly. “I suppose I’m tied to the Wardens for now, though. And with all this shit in my head, I might as well put it to some use. I’ll keep in touch. Even if I can’t find her yet, I’m not going to stick around this fucking place. But I can let you know if I see anything you should be aware of. Assassination attempts or something.” At Nyx’s worried look, Cronus shrugged. “It could happen.”

“I...appreciate it, then,” Nyx said.

Cronus grinned, hints of things he knew between his clenched teeth. “You’re welcome. After all, your journey is hardly over, yet.”

She tried not to shake at the way his deep blue eyes made her think of the Changeling. For all that Alistair worried about Morrigan, Nyx remembered that they shouldn’t forget about Cronus. They were both powerful, and both likely had plans. Malicious or not, it was best to stay on their good side, if possible.

Nyx escaped him after that, though, because he really could be creepy. She found Wynne and Shale, instead, who chatted with her about plans to restore the golem to a dwarf. The actual fleshy dwarf, Oghren, had plans of his own with Felsi (as well as many, many pints of ale). Sten would return to Par Vollen, but told Nyx that he recognized her as _basalit-an._ Apparently, it was a great honor among the Qunari to be named as such.

Leliana was hard to find until the bard came up to Sten, herself. He’d been Artemis’ friend, _kadan_ he would say. It was a comfort to grieve with someone who cared just as much.

Last, there was Loghain. Many did not want to approach him. Fewer still acknowledged his presence. He’d found some dark corner of the room, where he seethed quietly. The Grey Wardens had seen fit to station him in _Orlais_ , of all places, and he’d be leaving the next morning.

“I suppose you’re pleased to be rid of me,” Loghain said.

Nyx didn’t want to lie, because knowing that he wouldn’t be around to bother Alistair was a relief. But she didn’t want to be cruel, either, given how upset Loghain already was.

“You fought as hard as any of us, in the end,” Nyx said. “Regardless of how things stood before, you are our ally and a Warden. And I’m glad for it.”

Genuine surprise softened Loghain’s expression. “I do suppose I owe you and Alistair—” Nyx wished he could say the name without the venom, “—a debt of gratitude. No matter how it is to be spent, I owe my life to the both of you. He’s not as much of a fool as Cailan was, at least. And he does have you to guide him. Though I still wonder…” He narrowed his eyes a bit. “It was almost as if you _knew_ the trip to Redcliffe was a diversion.”

Nyx kept her cool, which she’d reflect on and be deeply proud of later. “You’re known to be a master strategist,” she said. “Anticipating the enemy’s move is part of it, even when your enemy is a horde of darkspawn.”

He remained unconvinced, but did not argue the matter further. As far as Loghain was concerned, this was a secret he’d have to stay out of. “I will take my leave, then,” he declared. “Eamon swore to let me spend time with Anora, before I leave. You had better show her the same mercy I received.”

Nyx nodded stiffly. “Convince her to renounce the throne,” she said. “Eamon won’t want to let her go, otherwise.”

Loghain snarled, but saw that Nyx was just as concerned as he was. She had no desire to spill Anora’s blood for the crown. “I’m not certain even I can convince her of that,” Loghain admitted, “but I will try.”

It was all she could ask of him.

Nyx moved to the door, after all of that. The guards stood at attention, saluting her as she approached.

“Are you ready to greet the crowd, Warden?” one of them inquired.

Nyx took one last look back. She wouldn’t be gone for long, but she wanted to take it in. This could well be the last time her friends were gathered together like this. Her heart broke a little, knowing that this was an end to something other than the Blight. But it also swelled as she thought of all that lay in front of her.

“Yes,” Nyx decided, “I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you crying? Cause I am a little bit. Then again I’m a giant sap who’s way too attached to my own characters, so...bias.
> 
> This isn’t the end just yet, though. Next is the epilogue, which I’m uploading the same day so you can roll right into that.


	39. Epilogue: We Have the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [For the third section](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s27jiVyGl3Y)

The funeral was a somber affair. The Alienage was full of more elves than usual, as Lanaya’s clan lingered behind to honor the fallen. Sten had managed to delay his trip as well. He would not go when Artemis had yet to be laid to rest.

Alistair lit the pyre. Cronus and Wynne had preserved her body with magic, so it appeared as if Artemis just been sleeping for those many days. Her hair was loose and cleaned of the blood that had stained it before. Atop her head was a ring of the flowers she’d once given to Leliana. They grew naturally in the Denerim Alienage, and had been easy for her father to find.

Soris and Shianni were inconsolable, clinging to one another as they stood with Cyrion. He cried just as much, if not more, but kept still and quiet. If he let himself cry out, he didn’t think he’d stop. After his wife, he had dreaded what might happen to his daughter. And now the flames licked her skin and consumed her.

Leliana stood with Artemis’ family, but steeled herself. As a bard, she’d promised herself she would sing over the dead. Artemis would be at the Maker’s side. That thought helped her to hold it together for the first verse and chorus of her song.

She stepped forward, and in front of everyone she performed the song she had written in honor of the girl she had loved:

_Her hair in pale ashes, it fell, it fell  
Her eyes through pale lashes, they closed, they closed a violent sea_

_Their hands with rough fingers, they came, they came  
Their arms they strained, and carried, and carried her away_

Not an eye in the crowd was dry when Leliana finally broke. Nyx was the first to sweep in, with Sten hovering close behind. Shianni, as representative of the Alienage, gathered herself together to make a speech.

“My cousin was many things. Brave. Honest. And not always the brightest, though most days she seemed a great deal smarter than me. Her sacrifice as she fought beside the Grey Wardens will stand in history as a symbol; a show that the life of an elf _does_ matter.

“The King himself came here today to honor her passing. The first king of any nation to enter the Alienage and share in our grief. This day, we mourn for Artemis, but we keep hope. Things are changing in Ferelden. And I know I will do my part in making that change both positive and lasting.” Shianni paused, inhaling sharply before her voice broke. “It’s what she would have wanted.”

As Nyx comforted Leliana, she swore to herself again and again that she would keep the promises she made to herself. A part of her would always be elven, even if she could never look like it again.

They watched for a while as the pyre burned, until the fire and the stars were the only things illuminating the Alienage. The guard escorted Alistair and Nyx out, though Leliana stayed. She wanted to spend time with Cyrion before she left for Haven with Brother Genitivi and a few templars that had volunteered their help.

She would pour her focus into sharing her discovery of Andraste’s Sacred Ashes. With reminders of Artemis everywhere, Leliana could not leave Denerim soon enough. Even Nyx and Sten’s company had offered limited distraction from the grief. Leliana no longer questioned Nyx’s choice to seek out the Changeling, when she fully understood the temptation.

But that abomination was slain. They had seen to that, and Cronus was nowhere near a substitute. She didn’t even want to think of him, blaming him still for Artemis’ death.

Cronus was already gone, anyway, as were many of the others. Nyx had remarked on the same sensation, the feeling of an end. She’d lived through this twice, too. Leliana, despite acknowledging the reasons Nyx had before for performing her ritual, would instead learn from those mistakes. Where Nyx had seen only hope in her past, Leliana swore to keep her eyes forward, and look to the future.

♢♢♢♢♢

Nyx had never, not once in either of her lives, worn something quite this fine. Not even Wade’s armor, incredible and sturdy as it was, stood up to the silks and lace that covered her body. Most of it was white, but accents of gold embroidery had been added in as decoration.

Hera helped her get laced in properly. Leliana’s job had been fixing Nyx’s hair, which had grown considerably in the months that they’d all been apart. Nyx had burst out in laughter when Zevran appeared in a ridiculous disguise, claiming to need it to hide from the Crows. Based on how over the top it was, he surely knew it would draw more attention than it would evade.

With the guard on high alert for the wedding, not even an Antivan Crow could get through to harm her friends. Though Zevran still insisted otherwise, claiming that seeing Nyx wed Alistair was simply “worth the risk.” Hera rolled her eyes every time, but did so with a smile. After all, she’d been the one to make certain they knew when to return for the event.

Leliana looked significantly better, though harder. Her edges had sharpened, even if she still sang just as sweetly as always while she fixed Nyx’s hair with colorful blooms. With her dedication to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Leliana at least had something she was doing for herself. Nyx admired her ability to continue so strongly, recalling how she had completely fallen apart from the loss of Alistair.

But such thoughts were too dark for the occasion. Hera was even sure to chide Nyx when she caught her with a frown.

“You had better not be having second thoughts,” Hera warned, “or I will skewer you.”

“No, it’s nothing like that!” Nyx said, shaking her head.

“Hold still!” Leliana said. “I’m not done!”

Nyx was obedient, not moving an inch until Leliana had finished her work.

With no father to walk the aisle with her, Fergus waited outside the room instead, prepared to escort her to the main hall when things were ready. They’d also be lead in by guards, though these men would be wearing the showier uniforms for the day. Hera and Leliana would have to hurry to join Zevran in the crowd in a moment.

Nyx hoped Zev wasn’t teasing Alistair too much. Wynne might have reigned him in, but she couldn’t exactly be with them while the king dressed. An optimistic thought did occur to Nyx, at least. Zevran could very well be giving Alistair some pointers for the night ahead. She bit her lip to keep from giggling.

A knock on the door was the sign that the other ladies needed to clear the room. Fergus stepped in moments later, smiling bright at Hera as she scurried past. Then he looked to Nyx and almost gasped.

“My sister is going to be queen,” he said.

“Princess regent, technically,” Nyx corrected.

Fergus shook his head. “I don’t care about the technicalities. I never once considered this as a possibility. Among all the other impossible things you’ve done.”

Nyx gave a small and sheepish shrug. “Well, my brother is Arl of Highever.”

“That’s the thing, though. I pictured you as the Arl and myself as the king’s soldier,” Fergus said.

“Do you dislike being in charge of it all?”

“No, I simply never thought I’d be able to handle it,” he admitted. Then his face fell for a moment. “Mother and father would have been so proud of you. He should have been the one to walk you down the aisle.”

Nyx closed the distance between herself and Fergus, putting a hand on his forearm. “I wish they could be here.” What she didn’t say, though both of them knew it, was that she also wished she’d been able to invite members of clan Sabrae. Marethari, Merrill, Ashalle, Hahren Paivel, Master Ilen… But they didn’t even know her. When they heard of the wedding, they wouldn’t dare to think that the queen was one of their own.

“Hey,” Fergus said, “the bride shouldn’t be looking so gloomy. You are happy, aren’t you?”

Nyx smiled, because oh yes, yes she was. “More than you can imagine.”

♢♢♢♢♢

Alistair fidgeted, even though he was supposed to stand tall and look confident. Little did he know that the court simply found it charming that he was so nervous. The whole country adored the both of them already, especially seeing how much they adored one another. The wedding was cause for celebration throughout Ferelden, not just in Denerim.

Every noble family of Ferelden was in attendance, as well as representatives from parts of the Free Marches and Orlais. The Empress herself sent an apology for being too busy to make the trip for the occasion, but sent a fairly lavish gift as a sign of peace and allegiance. She had liked Cailan a great deal, and hoped to continue her previous efforts to support Ferelden and its freedom. Alistair wasn’t sure he trusted that, but Empress Celene was nowhere near as venomous as other Orlesians.

Thankfully, only the nobles who were allied had been invited to attend. Zevran had said something to Alistair about weddings being good opportunities for assassinations— _“Just imagine everyone feasting, then the music turns more serious and the whole hall turns into a bloodbath! Antivans tend to make weddings more private affairs for this reason.”_ —but there had been no word from Cronus about some disastrous vision.

It was reassurance enough that the event would be safe. The guard also helped to put Alistair at ease.

Music played as the ceremony officially began. Alistair stiffened until he stood straight, eyes unblinking as he stared down to the other end of the aisle. Thank the Maker most of the audience had turned to watch the procession as they entered.

He waited for all the others to pass, waiting for the first sign of Nyx. He knew the cue that she was coming through next would be the flower girls, daughters of one of the Banns, as they threw red rose petals down the aisle.

The first rose Alistair had given to Nyx had long since wilted, though it had stayed alive for an unusual amount of time. It had been Leliana’s supposed sign from the Maker. Perhaps that flower’s longevity was divine intervention.

Regardless, Alistair had given her many roses since, and insisted that they fill entire rooms with them today. (A large amount of people in Denerim heard about this, and thought it was so romantic that they showed their support by putting roses in their own homes.)

The band swelled into a different tune, signaling everyone in the audience to stand for the bride. Alistair swallowed and reminded himself to breathe.

Fergus lead Nyx in, but Alistair developed sudden tunnel vision and could see only her. Nyx was ethereal. The only thing on her that was at all dark was her hair, which had been finely styled into intricate braids and covered in blooms in a variety of colors.

The fine white and gold dress evoked images of Andraste as the Bride of the Maker. Alistair wondered if it was heresy to think that Nyx was far more beautiful. Surely the Maker would understand.

Her lips were painted the same ruby red she always wore, and they twisted upwards in a jovial smile. Alistair was certain his grin must have looked goofy and smitten, which was appropriate because he _was_ both of those things. The slow ceremonial walk was torture, because he wanted nothing more than to scoop her up into his arms and kiss her senseless.

Finally, Fergus passed Nyx over to Alistair, and her hand slid perfectly into Alistair’s. He gripped it tight, swearing to himself not to let it go once for the whole day. Whether or not it was practical.

The words were a bit of a blur, because he just kept staring into her honey eyes and thinking, _How did we even get here?_ Alistair was just glad that Nyx was paying enough attention to give his fingers a gentle squeeze whenever he needed to speak or participate in part of the ceremony.

Nyx only started to tear up when he said his vows. Despite getting choked up, she managed to get through her own with only two small stumbles. He wanted very much to kiss her, but managed to wait until the end like he was supposed to.

When it was time though, Alistair held her tight and kissed her fiercely. This moment was precious, made more so by the knowledge that they were the only versions of themselves that had managed to not only live, but to stay with one another like this. Nyx had fought to keep him, had fought to better their world, and no matter the darknesses in her, she was his light.

Leliana performed her newest song for them as the festivities began. She had entitled it _The Warden Reborn,_ slipping secret pieces of their history within some of the words. No other could know who Nyx really was, but those who had been with them during the Blight would never forget. Pieces of her true self would be kept alive in whispers and doublespeak, though history would probably never know the truth of what she’d done. For better or worse.

Nyx swore it didn’t bother her. And that day, it was probably the last thing on her mind. Alistair only knew that when the people were gone and they’d been allowed to retreat to their room for the night, she whispered _vhenan_ to him again and again.

♢♢♢♢♢

Hera fiddled with her earring. “I think you read the map wrong, love,” she said, turning back to Zevran. “We’re getting closer to desert lands, but we should be moving further.”

“Ah, yes, I had noticed more sand in my boots,” Zevran said, wiggling one foot in the air as demonstration.

Hera shook her head. “You know it gets terribly cold in deserts at night. We’ll need to find some way to keep warm.”

Zevran laughed, and reached out to take her hand. “Whatever shall we do about _that,_ I wonder?”

Hera just smirked. She’d worried at some point that her interest in sex might wane after so long with just the one partner, but if anything she’d only become _more_ insatiable. She could map out Zevran’s body like an expert cartographer and still she wanted more of him. He had so wholly consumed her thoughts; Hera may as well have been a desire demon’s thrall.

Scooby whined and plopped down.

 _So dramatic._ “I don’t think that Scooby likes the idea of the desert near as much as we do, unfortunately,” Hera said, leaning down to scratch his head. “We’ve enough daylight that I believe we can reach the nearest town and find a place to hole up in for the night. Maybe pick up some jobs from the Chanter’s Board, if we can. Quietly, as always.”

“We could also dabble in more petty thievery, should the desire strike,” Zevran mused.

“I would encourage you, but I’m afraid you’ll simply try to steal me more jewelry rather than pocketing coin.”

“I did get a bit of both. Besides, that necklace matched your eyes perfectly.”

“And it fetched a good price,” Hera said with a wry grin. “Though I think it was just because the fence had a thing for me.”

“But of course. He would have to be quite the fool to miss such a vision of loveliness as yourself. Though I cannot say the same for him.”

“Hardly fair when you’re nearby. The comparison isn’t exactly kind to...well, anyone. You’re simply too handsome, my love.”

“I know. It is a burden I must bear,” Zevran said with a sigh. Then he pulled her up and close to him to kiss her. “I can suffer it so long as you are near.”

Hera snickered. “You sound like you practiced that one.”

Zevran only waggled his eyebrows in response, which sent Hera into a fit of laughter before he drew her back to kiss her again. Before long, they were back on the move, making their way towards a nearby town. While the prospect of using each other’s body heat to keep warm was enticing, finding a room with an actual roof was certainly the better idea.

♢♢♢♢♢

_Dearest King and Queen of Ferelden,_

_It is I, your humble servant, back with another message. A few things worth noting:_

  * Eamon should really keep a better watch on his doors
  * seriously it’s a concern of mine
  * it haunts me to think that someone could just pop in and out
  * that guy Nyx was suspicious of
  * with the blonde hair?
  * yeah get rid of him
  * Alistair the man with the scar on his brow isn’t an assassin
  * he was just checking out your wife
  * and not even because of political ambitions!
  * the dirty looks are just jealousy
  * I know Morrigan sent you that bottle
  * funny, I can’t see her, but I can see you two getting word from her
  * at least this means nothing has happened
  * nothing really serious, at least
  * anyway, you should know that it’s perfectly safe to use
  * the cost of making it has already been paid
  * and the cost of using it is nothing you wouldn’t be willing to handle
  * personally
  * I say go for it
  * but hey, I’m just the asshole with the mind splintered by dark magic
  * what would I know about mysterious potions?



_Await further instruction.  
Cronus Amell_

__

♢♢♢♢♢

The baby kicked. It was hard enough that it hurt a little, that time. It felt like just yesterday he was no bigger than a bean, and now he had actual feet and could wriggle around in her belly. Morrigan smiled fondly at it, just for a moment, before she caught herself.

She’d been wondering if Kieran would have his father’s eyes. Or perhaps his chin? Just so long as he didn’t have those same ridiculous pouty lips. They made Cronus look like a kicked puppy. The last thing Morrigan needed was for her son to pull such a face with all he was destined for.

She wasn’t even supposed to be thinking of Kieran’s father. Morrigan kept swearing to herself that she would kick the habit the next day, but the thoughts just returned. She must have been quite the lovesick fool; sometimes she missed him so much that it hurt. As if sensing this, the baby kicked again.

“Shh, little one,” Morrigan cooed. “We mustn’t weep for what is no longer here.”

This whole pregnancy business was making her soft. How did Flemeth do it and remain so sharp? No doubt it was that inhuman nature she was starting to discover more about in her searching.

Morrigan wished Flemeth couldn’t block Cronus. He could have told her more before they parted ways, were that the case. But Morrigan was using the trick to keep him out, as well, and could not fault the reasoning for privacy. Though it did beg the question of how and why Flemeth had been prepared with such barriers.

In a rare moment of spectacular weakness, Morrigan used her magic to pull at the tether she yet had to Cronus through the ring. He was not actually that far, at the time, but he was far enough yet that she was safe from discovery. Sometimes there was the temptation to become a bird and fly to where he was, watching him from a high perch. But he would undoubtedly notice. He knew all her shapeshifting forms.

If Morrigan had never let that blasted man into her life in the first place, running would be so much simpler. But this _love_ nonsense even had her putting work into potions to encourage fertility in Nyx.

Morrigan wasn’t even certain the woman would be willing to use such a thing, given her severe reluctance to get involved in any more dark magic. Still, she’d sent it along to the palace as a wedding present. Nyx was still her friend, however odd and unstable the friendship was.

No matter. If Nyx and Alistair decided having an heir was worth yet another trip down the road of dark magics, they would take it. If not, it was just a project Morrigan had wasted time on. With luck, they’d just figure out a way to send it with Cronus when he inevitably came looking for her. Better that than them discarding it and destroying the bottle.

Morrigan forced herself to move more. The area she was currently in was not as secure as she might have liked, and her swollen, pregnant belly drew a great deal of unwanted attention. Even in the quietest villages, women fussed over her and became invasive with their line of questioning:

“How many months? What will you name them? Who’s the father?”

Morrigan did not want to explain her private life to some nosy little townspeople. Dammit, she wasn’t even supposed to be seen as much as she’d been. It wasn’t as if she was seeking the company. Doing that would have meant that she was lonely, which would have been so pathetic she may as well have offered herself up to one of the darkspawn so she could fall on their blade.

She was _not_ lonely.

After all, she had Kieran who was kicking away in her stomach. All she needed was to care for him. Morrigan would dedicate her life to seeing that her son was raised safe, happy, and better than she herself had ever been with her own mother. It was the least she could offer to him before the weight of his destiny caught up with them both.

♢♢♢♢♢

Mhairi's company had provided good distractions for Nyx early in their journey. Her questions about the Grey Wardens and Blights kept Nyx from thinking too long of Denerim and the people she was leaving behind. It wouldn't be a long departure, but it would be difficult to bear regardless.

Now Mhairi wanted to know more about the king and certain new measures being taken in the name of equality. Nyx was happy to share the projects she had spent these past few months on, but it brought back some of the heartache. Alistair would be dealing with the nobles and critics alone. Nyx had already taught him all the necessary phrases she could think of in Elvhen, and the elves mostly recognized the crown as an ally. The nobles, however, weren't fond of some of the new luxuries given to the Alienage and Dalish elves. Mostly because they felt like that was something taken from them.

The whole thing was ridiculous and constantly taxing. Many days the king and queen fell to their marital bed just happy to hold each other and get some much needed rest. But Warden duties called Nyx away as the order rebuilt itself. She would have to spend a few nights alone.

Mhairi did not seem to notice the melancholy within the queen as they spoke. Eventually Nyx flipped the conversation on her companion so she could take a break from talking. Mhairi insisted there wasn’t much to know about her, but still offered a nice story of a soldier with a deep love of her country. Nyx smiled.

“Ferelden can always use more people with loyal hearts. Especially those who know to put the good of the country above the good for themselves alone,” Nyx said.

Mhairi was blushing, though it was barely visible beneath her red steel helmet. “Y-yes, your highness. It is why I intend to become a Warden. If I may be so bold, it was actually your actions as well as King Alistair's that inspired me to join. The way you have united all of Ferelden’s people and shown mercy even to some of your greatest enemies…” Mhairi breathed a sigh. “Truly worthy of respect, my queen.”

“Please, we’re going to be comrades in arms soon. You can just call me Nyx, if you please.”

“I'm not certain I'm comfortable with that, to be perfectly honest. I feel that I owe you my respect.”

“And I know that I have it,” Nyx said, “so you don't need honorifics to remind me of that.”

“Perhaps… Would it be alright for me to call you 'Commander,’ instead? That is to be your role, after all.”

“I see no harm in that. But while we are on the road, just the two of us, I'd like you to be comfortable using my name.”

Mhairi nodded, but still didn't use it. Not until the next day did she even make an attempt.

By the time they were within five miles of their destination, Nyx was lifting her eyes to the sky. She smelled the air, thick and cold.

“Looks like rain,” she said. “Can you smell it?”

“No,” Mhairi admitted. “I didn't even know you could smell rain before it fell.”

Nyx gave an easy smile. “It comes from months of travel experience. You’ll pick up little things like that over time.”

Mhairi nodded. It was cute the way one could actually see her forming a mental note. Her eyes took on a sudden serious nature as she committed new information to memory.

“We'd best get a move on, then,” Nyx said. “If we're lucky, we can reach Amaranthine before dusk, and before this storm hits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A final thanks to everyone who followed this story through to the end! I know it was long but hopefully I made this all worth the wait. So whether you've been with me from the start, jumped in midway, or you're just reading this whole thing after I've already uploaded all of it, thank you for your support!
> 
> This is not the end for Nyx yet, though! I will start uploading Awakening chapters soon. I'd like to have a bit of a backlog so I don't fall too far behind but I will try to start that within the month. It should be much shorter than Warden Reborn, but it will feature some characters from this as well as one or two new faces.
> 
> After that I will (finally!!!!) be starting to upload my DA2 fic. It will continue along in the same universe as this, but will be mostly separate storywise. So be sure to check back for more soon!
> 
> If you don't already, this would also be a good time to check out and follow my [Tumblr](http://theramblinggirl.tumblr.com/). I might make a separate writing blog if that seems to be a thing people would be interested in for prompts, talk about WR, and updates on what I'm currently writing.


End file.
